


A Secret Chord

by pand_em_onium, sull89



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Q is a nickname and not a title, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-19 11:12:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 27,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9437528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pand_em_onium/pseuds/pand_em_onium, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sull89/pseuds/sull89
Summary: In all their interactions, James had never imagined he would actually pull a gun on the man he loved.





	1. The Minor Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to Marlo (http://marloart.tumblr.com/) for the beautiful art and to Chestnut_NOLA for organizing and moderating this year's RBB.
> 
> Fic is post-Skyfall, assuming the information Silva stole was never recovered.  
> Q is half-French with divorced parents, so he grew up between London and Paris. His full name is Quinlan Verreuil but he hates it, hence his preference to be called Q.
> 
>  

“Welcome back, Bond,” M’s tone was cool as always, his eyes appraising his agent efficiently as 007 nodded in response and came to stand before his desk. Though he didn’t take joy in it, M was welcoming him home just in time to turn him around and send him out again, so he got right to it, “You won’t have much time to relax, I’m afraid. One of our contacts has come through on the hard drive Silva had stolen. It’s up for sale.” The challenge within M’s gaze was clear – a chance for James to redeem his failure, “I thought it would be best if you saw this mission through to the end.”

James’s response was immediate and crisp, though the way his eyes narrowed made it clear he didn’t exactly appreciate the insinuation behind M’s last words, “Of course.” On alert, he waited silently for further instruction and information – the opportunity to put the entirety of the Silva debacle behind him was more than welcome. 

Gesturing for 007 to take a seat, M did the same and pushed a file folder over to him, “Here is the information we have. Handling the drive’s encryption will be the most delicate part of the operation. Our contact had attempted to hack it himself, but it was protected by some sort of polymorphic engine. To be quite honest the technicalities of it all are beyond me but, fortunately for us, this particular encryption bears the mark of Quinlan Verreuil.” M couldn’t help the slight smirk that touched his lips at that revelation, “I trust you will be able to ensure his cooperation?”

All run of the mill information, right up until the point M revealed that he expected James to mix business and pleasure. Spine straightening even further, James deadpanned as he responded, voice crisp, “Orders were not to involve him in my work in any fashion.”

“I’m aware of the orders, 007,” M left it unsaid that he was the one who had put them in place, after all, “and we are making an exception. Access to the hard drive is exceedingly limited and we need someone who can work within the parameters of the encryption quickly and quietly.” When the immediate response from his agent was a smart mouthed comment about revealing that he was a double-oh, M shot him a withering look and continued on, “It would hardly be the most reckless thing you’ve ever done. But no, you’ll continue your cover as a contractor and tell him only that the information is valuable and highly sensitive. That should be all he needs to know.”

Displeased with that and fielding a dozen different arguments in his head – the data for sale would be advertised as such, involving a civilian in such an operation was bound to go badly, pulling Quinlan at a moment’s notice wasn’t going to be a simple task, getting him to unencrypt the files without viewing them would be a ridiculous request – James bit back most of them and went with one of the most basic facts, “You underestimate his curiosity.”

When M’s only response came as an underhanded comment about overestimating 007’s ability to do his job, James felt a tic flex involuntary in his jaw. He was riled up and trying not to show it, but even still he had to voice some of his disapproval, “You’re asking me to entangle my personal and professional lives. I’ve always kept that divide crystal clear. I get to be stiff about this.”

“Nonetheless,” M countered, his voice lilting slightly with that fake sweet tone that always came off as near condescension, “I have faith you will be successful.” The matter was settled – at least as far as M was concerned – and he was ready to move on to new things, “Everything you need is in that folder. Ensure that he is on board by this evening; I need an answer quickly in the unfortunate case lesser measures will need to be pursued.”

Though James was well aware the information was in the file – he knew it was a mission op folder the moment M pushed it over toward him – he was still feeling somewhat salty, “You’re asking me to take a personal asset into the field. The least you can do is walk me through it.” If there were holes to be poked in this foolhardy plan James wanted to find and attack them now. 

It was with a deep and abiding sigh that M broke 007’s way and began to explain, “You will meet with the seller to confirm the terms and the data. There will be a bid at some point following. We need the seller and the buyer to assume the transaction was complete – we are fairly certain that the seller is from a smaller bait organization trying to protect a larger, more enmeshed one. We will have other assets in the field to trail both the buyer and seller, in the hopes they will lead us to the actual power brokers. Regardless, that is outside your scope. To protect our data without revealing the loss to them, we need someone who can break the encryption and deploy a virus to destroy the data held within it. Q Branch can handle the virus, but to decrypt the files in the shortest time frame possible we need their creator. Fortunately for us, you already have him.”

Though James’s jaw was tense, he managed a terse nod, “I assume you’ll have someone else doing the actual work of getting him access? I doubt you want me risking my cover.” When he received a nod of agreement, James continued on with his tone veering damn near a lecture, “I don’t appreciate you bringing him into this.”

“You know how exclusive MI6 can be, Bond,” M replied curtly, his eyes holding a no-nonsense look as he appraised his mouthy agent, “We don’t like it either. But it needs to be done. On top of that, he speaks Cantonese. So does the seller. His cover as your translator is solid.” 

Though James could argue further – there are other translators, why don’t I just shoot the damn computer and be done with it – he knew it would be to no avail. Preparing himself to leave, James refastened the button on his suit jacket as he rose, “Fine. He’ll agree to go. This is my mission to see through.” Without waiting to be properly dismissed, James excused himself and exited the office before his temper got any further out of hand.


	2. The Major Lift

Q was absorbed in his work, so much so that he didn’t realize James was at the door until one of the cats ran by to greet him; usually he would have at least paused in his work as soon as he heard the keys. He stood with a soft smile once the other man had entered and pulled off his overcoat. “There you are. And with a tan, too. Are you sure it was just for work that you went to Spain?” Q commented as he crossed the room, clearly both amused with himself and grateful to see James after his trip.

Chuckling, James caught the younger man around the waist and pulled him in close. “As hard as they try, they can’t keep me behind a desk all 24 hours of the day,” he mused. 

Q retorted with soft laughter of his own, then leaned in for a kiss. “Don’t I know that all too well?” He knew that James was kept busy with his work, constantly sent out to meet with the foreign companies his firm worked with. Being employed with a government contractor was delicate business, he assumed, so James was required to do much of that business face-to-face. It worked out fairly well, usually – Q’s own work took up much of his time, and James being away actually made it easier.

With his fingers linked behind the small of Q’s back, James tilted his head so that he could fully appreciate the view in front of him. He had long since come to enjoy having someone waiting for him at home, no matter the beautiful women he dealt with on an almost daily basis. As it turned out, having a little bit of structure was actually enjoyable. Indulgently, he smiled and tightened his grip briefly before releasing Q altogether. “I’m home now,” he replied as he toed off his shoes and loosened his tie.

Q sighed, immediately reminded of the backlog of work he had yet to catch up on. “Yes, and unfortunately I’m still catching up. Order something for lunch, would you? I should only be another hour.”

Without skipping a beat, James nodded and glanced at the clock that read 1:30. “So I’ll have them deliver it around four?” Though he didn’t grin outright, the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. Q was brilliant, but he often delved so deep into his projects that an entire day could pass before he realized it. 

Wrinkling his nose in annoyance, Q retreated to his desk. “Very funny,” he replied, picking up his tea only to realize it had gone cold. Frowning with the realization that saying something would only prove James’ point further – he never let his tea go cold unless he was too absorbed to realize the passage of time - he got back to work. 

Later that afternoon, once Q’s laptop was shut and lunch completed, the two men found themselves curled up on the couch together. James had one arm slung over Q’s shoulders while the other kept up with the cat’s demands for attention.

“I take it by your lack of scotch that everything went well in Spain, then?” Q started once he had gotten comfortable. Though James was often tight-lipped about his work, it was clearly stressful. A pattern cropped up that let him know when the trip was a success or not and it was directly correlated to the amount of liquor James consumed once he returned. 

Lips quirking into a self-depreciating smile, James turned his attention away from the cat. “That transparent, am I?” 

Q shrugged as though it should be obvious. “Usually, yes.” Though it was hardly true that James was easy to read, Q was the one person who knew him well enough to know his tells. “Like now, for instance. I can tell something is on your mind. You keep looking at me and looking away, as though you want to say something but you’re not quite sure where to start.”

James couldn’t help but look a little bewildered; if he believed in such things at all, he would say that his lover had premonitions considering how eerily accurate his observations often were. In an attempt to appear unmoved, he turned his attention back to the cat – at least that way Q couldn’t pick up on any other subtleties in his expression. “I was thinking it’s time we took a holiday together. I hear Macau is worth visiting.”

Judging by the somewhat bland way James spoke, alarm bells went off. Sitting upright, Q narrowed his eyes as he studied the other man’s profile in an attempt to read him from the angle he was at. “A holiday. That’s what this is about?”

Expression appropriately schooled, James turned to face Q. He was smiling now, doing his best to appear as though there was nothing out of the ordinary in his request. “You’ve been complaining your work doesn’t send you to exotic places. Why not let me take you to one?”

Still suspicious, Q crossed his arms and frowned. “Why now? And why Macau? You don’t even speak Cantonese; with all the languages you DO speak, I should think there are plenty of other opportunities.”

Though he didn’t let it show, this had been exactly James’ point when he told M he underestimated Q’s curiosity. With the details of the operation still so fresh in his memory that the urge to throttle his superior was still strong, he had gone into this thinking like an agent who needed to sweet talk an asset into cooperating. Now, confronted with Q’s unwavering intellect, he realized there was no way he’d be able to get what he wanted from the other man using the tactics he’d started out with

Q could spot the moment James gave up whatever game he was playing and resigned himself to telling the truth. His shoulders relaxed, another subtlety in his posture that told Q something was going on, but instead of feeling more at ease his guard only went up further. If there was something else to this, James had a reason for starting out the way he did and that was not comforting. 

“The truth is that I need your help, Quinlan.” James was already regretting his lack of scotch, and he sighed. His relationship with Q was the only place where he really had a personal life and even still he hadn’t fully adjusted to it. As an agent, his default was to view any unfamiliar experience through a lens of suspicion and manipulation, even though there was no need to with the younger man. 

“Several months ago, some sensitive information was stolen from my firm. The government was handling its retrieval, but we’ve come across a delicate situation. The thief is attempting to sell the information, and the people who were tracking it down attempted to hack the files and destroy them before the sale. But it’s being protected by your encryption, so they couldn’t access it without being noticed.” 

Careful to keep eye contact, James scrutinized Q’s expression for any sign of further suspicion. This, at least, was normal – the tightrope he walked between telling just enough truth to be believable without revealing too much. Q licked his lips, which James recognized as a tic the other often displayed when he was paying rapt attention. 

Taking that as a good sign, James continued, “We need the information back, but the government got a new idea in their heads; they want to track down the seller and potential buyers to address threats to our national security.” He paused here and rolled his eyes; it wasn’t unusual for him to complain about the government employees he sometimes had to work with, figuring it was a safe way to vent about work to the person he loved even when Q wasn’t supposed to know anything about it. The younger man smiled slightly, almost out of habit, which meant he was relaxed.

“For that reason, they have authorized the both of us to pose as buyers in Macau. The government will arrange for you to have access to the hard drive where the information is kept; they need you to decrypt the files and install a time lapse virus that will corrupt the information only after both parties believe the sale has gone through. Your cover will be as my translator, since as you so kindly pointed out, I don’t know a word of Cantonese.”

Q’s eyes scanned James’ face for any sign that there was more to the story. There was no indication that he’d left anything out, so after almost a minute of silence he spoke. “Well. It’s nice to know that my work is at least good enough to keep the government from snooping,” he quipped.

James laughed, relieved that the suspicious apprehension had melted out of the younger man’s expression. “I’ve always said you were brilliant,” he replied with a wink, which earned him a playful shove.

Expression growing serious again, Q made a mental tally of the work he’d been assigned in the coming weeks before speaking again. “Give me the details. I’ll have to have this approved. I hope you haven’t made any promises.” James responded with a quiet laugh and from there the conversation flowed easily, James filling Q in on the necessary details and then smiling indulgently as his persistent little boffin headed off into the bedroom to phone his boss. 

After a brief screening from the secretary, Q was put through to the only person who had the authority to grant his request. A crisp and flawless French voice greeted him almost sternly, “Director Philibert. Speak, Agent Verreuil.” Though the monarchy had been abolished in France for ages, her underlings referred to Phedre Philibert as “Her Majesty” behind her back. As head of the Directorate-General for External Security she was basically France’s answer to M and she wielded that power formidably. 

But Her Majesty or not, Q had enough experience handling his boss that he felt a soft affection toward her and rather enjoyed the dance of their conversations, “James has asked me to join him on a business trip to Macau; we would leave soon. His firm asked for me personally as they would need my skills to recover information of theirs for sale on the black market”.

Whatever she had expected from her London-based agent, that hadn’t been it. Though she certainly wasn’t one to pass up a good opportunity she also wasn’t going to risk an agent without sufficient information. “You, personally? Why?” Of course, the offer was tantalizing but that was part of the reason she hesitated – she knew Q’s beau worked for a government contractor, which meant that whatever they were sending him to Macau for stood a good chance of being valuable. On the other hand, asking for Quinlan specifically raised alarm bells: what if they were suspicious?

The response flowed off Q’s tongue easily, more than a touch of pride in his voice as he spoke, “The seller is using my safeguards.” Before Director Philibert could follow up with another question, Q anticipated it and continued on, “This is the opportunity we have been waiting for, Director. If the British government is desperate enough to recruit someone outside of their usual contractors to pursue this, it has to be of critical and time sensitive importance.” 

Though he wasn’t overly fond of the idea of using James’ plight to his country’s advantage, Q knew that the Director wasn’t charitable enough to loan his skills out on such short notice. His division usually didn’t involve itself in matters such as this, but it was a worthwhile bargaining chip and likely the only way he could convince her to say yes.

As the rest of her questions came – mostly anticipated, but no less relevant, Q handled each with grace and careful planning and by the time he hung up twenty minutes later it was with permission to go and the requirement to back up a dummy copy of whatever data the English were after. He’d anticipated her every argument and may have exaggerated on the importance of the information, which made their conversation sway his direction that much sooner. 

Q stepped out of the bedroom, his expression neutral. James met his gaze expectantly, careful to keep his own expression from revealing too much. Things would get complicated if Q had been denied leave by his boss, as James wasn’t willing to risk revealing his identity by blackmailing the younger man’s superiors. Once he’d crossed the room, Q rested his hands on the back of the couch and his expression became stern. “Just promise me you won’t spend all our free time gambling.” 

Laughing perhaps a bit too loudly to hide his relief, James gripped Q’s elbows and pulled him over the back of the couch and into his lap. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”


	3. Your Faith Was Strong

It wasn’t until they’d settled in for their twenty-one-hour trip that Q realized how long it had been since he’d been sent into the field. His operations mostly consisted of verifying that the allies of the DGSE had followed through on their promises on the rare occasions he was sent out, and none of those trips lasted more than a day. As such, he’d been able to avoid traveling by plane and had almost forgotten how draining it was.

On the other hand, James was so at ease with flying he’d fallen asleep. His eyes remained closed until the plane jerked as they landed, though Q couldn’t be certain if it was the landing or his low groan that woke the other man. Immediately, James rested his hand on Q’s knee comfortingly, a soft smile on his features. Q’s attempt to smile back must have come off as more of a grimace, judging by James’s response. “I’ll get you a drink once we’ve deplaned,” he offered gently.

With a shake of his head that made his stomach lurch, Q threw a withering glance James’s way. “You can treat me to something I’ll actually be able to enjoy once my stomach settles,” he insisted. 

Though he was talking to James, his eyes were on the door, clearly anxious to be back on solid ground. Knowing there was no point in arguing, James busied himself with gathering their things. As soon as the pilot announced they were clear to deplane, Q nearly leapt out of his seat in his haste. Suppressing a smile at the younger man’s predictability, James stood and quietly guided Q off the plane.

Though he was still somewhat uneasy, Q recovered quickly as they exited the gate. Immediately taking in his surroundings he fell into step beside James, more or less taking the lead since he could more easily follow the signs. “Is the government supposed to be sending agents to meet us here or will we have a reprieve before we get to the hotel?”

As they approached the front of the airport, James spotted 004 and 006. They were assigned to the operation and had been in Macau for a week already to ensure all the necessary preparations were complete. For the time being, he let his eyes skim past them and focused on Q instead. “They are supposed to meet us here,” he confirmed.

He caught the way Q’s expression shifted to one of barely concealed distaste. “That sounds about as enjoyable as the plane ride,” he commented dryly, which made James chuckle. Q had never been very social, especially after enduring something he already disliked.

Briefly, James brushed his fingers across the nape of Q’s neck in a soothing gesture. “We’ll enjoy the trip anyway,” he replied reassuringly. They had almost reached the other end of the airport where the two double-oh’s were waiting, but Q was dragging his feet, clearly both exhausted from the trip and not looking forward to meeting Alec and Ivelisse.

As they passed by tourist pamphlets advertising the many casinos in the area, Q paused to look them over. “It’s a shame there wasn’t time for you to teach me poker before we left,” he mused, idly flipping through the brochure for one of the gaudier casinos.

Their preparation for the trip had actually left them with very little free time. James had insisted that they both take self-defense training since they would be brushing elbows with potential terrorists. The whole time they were enduring said training, all James could think was that displaying some level of incompetence in his own areas of expertise was probably more difficult than the actual operation itself. “You don’t have the right face for it, Q. Too expressive,” he replied with a smile once Q replaced the brochure. That comment earned him a scoff and a doubtful expression from the other man. 

“Are you certain it’s my face you’re thinking of?” Q asked, eyebrow raised. He couldn’t count the number of times his co-workers had commented that he must take his job seriously because he was always displaying an expression that was a mix of bored and annoyed, even when he was amused. He was constantly perfecting his poker face, they joked.

“Positive,” James confirmed, nonplussed though his lips were turned up just enough for Q to question his sincerity.

Before Q could say anything more, a redheaded woman approached them and he knew from the serious look on her face she was one of the British agents. “Welcome to Macau. My name is Ivelisse,” she greeted in a prim English accent.

“Thank you. So you’ll be our escort?” James asked with a winning smile, speaking so Q wouldn’t have to. He would tease him later for being the most anti-social French half-breed he’d ever met.

Ivelisse nodded and kept her expression carefully neutral, her gaze not quite meeting James’ to keep recognition out of her eyes. “This way, please,” she directed, gesturing to her partner waiting a few feet away.

“Of course.” With his hand resting on the small of Q’s back, James followed her instruction, smiling politely at the man waiting for them. In reality, Alec was one of his closest friends so he was careful to keep his expression neutral. It would be far too easy to rouse Q’s suspicion if he didn’t tread softly. The man was too perceptive for his own good.

From what James knew, Ivelisse was usually the quiet one, so she must have had concerns about the two men acting too familiar when she took over the conversation. “I take it you’ve both been fully prepared for the job?”

“Yes ma’am,” James answered, careful to keep their interactions brief.

“Good.” They were quiet after that until they reached the car. From the passenger seat, Alec handed Ivelisse a packet of paperwork which she briefly reviewed before passing over to James. 

“We’ve already pinpointed the seller’s room, any known associates, as well as security measures in use. We have several personnel working with us to ensure your safety. These documents are all you need to concern yourselves with.” Her gaze sharpened momentarily, a silent warning to James to keep his nose out of the rest of the operational details. “This will be over quickly, so try to remain calm. This must be nerve-wracking for you both.”

James nodded gratefully and flashed his best nervous smile. “It’s certainly not our usual line of work.” Noticing that Q seemed to be fidgeting, he once again placed a gentle hand on Q’s knee and brushed his thumb over Q’s thigh. Moments later they were pulling away from the airport.

Glancing at the two men in the rearview mirror, Alec finally spoke up. “Are you both ready for the meeting with the seller tomorrow?” James caught the amusement in Alec’s eyes and had to restrain himself from kicking the back of his chair for being a smarmy shit.

Before he could reply, Q spoke, though it was clear he was speaking more to himself. “We’ve gone so in depth with our covers and any possible questions the seller might ask that I could write a book.”

Ivelisse glanced back at Q, eyes like ice. “Perhaps that would be a good exercise for you tonight.” She clearly did not appreciate any sort of sarcasm when it came to an operation.

Realizing that he’d let his annoyance regarding the week of redundant training get to him, Q sat up a little straighter to appear more sincere. “I’m as prepared as I can be,” he started, the sarcasm gone from his tone. “Your people in London are very thorough.”

Though she had turned her gaze back to the road, Q could tell by her cold tone that Ivelisse wasn’t mollified. “As is their job. Don’t be flip, this is a serious situation.”

The fact that he knew the gravity of their work but couldn’t say anything was irritating. This whole situation was unusual and Q realized he was sorely out of practice. Apparently, he’d spent too much time alone with his laptop. Turning his head to hide his expression from the two agents in the front seat, he murmured again, “I am being serious.”

“We will see about that,” Ivelisse replied, a sense of finality in her tone that Q knew would be pointless to challenge. In truth, he could understand her frustration; he’d worked with civilian assets in the past who hadn’t taken their job as seriously as they should have. Those ops usually ended with a dead asset or with his cover blown.

For his part, James rested his hand on Q’s knee and gave him an expression that Q read as ‘see what I have to deal with?’, but didn’t actually say anything aloud. With a soft sigh, he took in the scenery that rushed by and was grateful that the car ride would at least be brief.


	4. You Needed Proof

The conversation remained at a lull until they reached the hotel. The Banyan Tree was a group of buildings rather than just one, with two high rise towers joined by an elaborate courtyard at the center. Several smaller villas were dotted around, mostly hidden behind privacy hedges. Q could just make out the glittering waters of the private pools that the villas boasted. That, along with the spa rooms and jacuzzis he’d seen listed in the hotel amenities marked this place as the height of luxury. He resolved to enjoy what he could on England’s dime. It had been quite a while since his last holiday.

Ivelisse was the first to break the silence. “My partner will walk you through the security protocols we have in place after you’ve checked in.” That same sharp look was in her eyes again, but Q couldn’t tell if it was directed at him or James. “You’ll have the rest of the afternoon to yourselves after that, so long as you stick to those safety measures.”

Nodding indulgently, James climbed out of the car. “We’ll be perfectly well behaved,” he promised with a wink before shutting the door. “You know, Quinlan, telling the ladies what they want to hear is how you keep yourself out of trouble,” he added once they had reached the doors of the lobby.

James made quick work of checking them into the hotel and it was only a few minutes later that they arrived at the entrance to their villa. Hiding an indulgent smile, James kept his warm gaze on Q as the younger man as he stared in abject astonishment at the grandeur of it all. Though they only had enough time to drop off their luggage and use the facilities before 006 whisked them away for the security briefing, James allowed himself a moment to enjoy Q’s reaction anyway. 

Forty-five boring minutes later they were safely ensconced in the walls of their villa once more and James could finally comment on Q’s look of wonder, “You like seeing how my company spends the government’s money?” Though truthfully it was how the government itself has chosen to spend the money it didn’t hurt to spin it as a part of his cover. Besides, either way they needed to maintain the façade of buyers with deep pockets and rich taste. 

“You could say that,” Q quipped lightly, though he couldn’t keep the awe from his tone completely. When James’s response came, something witty about not asking questions and just taking advantage of it all, Q could only smile in understanding and nod, “So that’s what we will do, then. What do you recommend starting with?” 

That was a question James had been waiting and prepared for. “I have a few ideas,” he chuckled softly, his worn face brightening with the upturn of his lips. A turn at one of the famous casinos, an absurdly expensive dinner, and an digestif or two covered his main plan for the day. And so the time passed, out and about in Macau as James showed Q all the best sights and sounds while simultaneously playing the tourist himself, careful to pretend it had been the first time he’d seen it all as well.

Though they’d had a full night they turned in early nonetheless - James knew better than to miss a full night’s sleep when the opportunity arose. Yet when Q woke near 5 A.M. and roused himself from bed James was alert almost instantaneously, the shift in weight on the mattress combined with the soft pat of Q’s feet hitting the floor more than enough to bring him fully awake. Shoving himself up on one arm, James ran his hand over his face and looked to Q, a silent question in his eyes. 

Of course James had woken, James always seemed to know where Q was even when the younger man was taking pains to stay hidden or quiet. A tired smile touched his lips as he saw the concern in James’s eyes, “Sorry. I couldn’t sleep. Just a touch anxious, I suppose.” He knew James was going to ask, better to answer the question preemptively. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Q leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to James’s lips, lingering for a moment before pulling back, “I just want to take a walk to clear my head. You should get some more sleep.”

James’s first instinct came immediate and hard – argue, advise Q he would be coming as well, ensure that he was protected at all times. It required a significant amount of will but James reigned it in before saying anything, choosing instead to nod and run his hand over Q’s side, “If that’s what you need.” The only thing assuaging James was the knowledge that either Ivelisse or Alec was up and watching and the moment Q exited the villa they would be on his tail, silent and deadly protection if needed. 

That fact still wasn’t enough to allow James a restful return to sleep. Fifteen minutes found him dressed and in the kitchen, frying himself some eggs to the sound of Ivelisse letting herself into the villa. James certainly wasn’t surprised – though he had fully planned the mission with the two other double-oh agents before boarding the plane, Ivelisse was an exacting woman and this was the first opportunity she had to speak with James privately since he put feet on the ground.

Yet, somehow, even though he knew she was going to want to talk, her first question managed to grate on him significantly. “Is he really prepared for this?” her voice, when it came, was silk smooth like always but James could easily pick out her vague sense of contempt. Looking up from his breakfast James stayed silent for a moment, the look in his eyes making it clear he didn’t appreciate the question. 

Besides, they’d already had this discussion. He’d done the best he could with the notice he had. Q was a civilian, one they couldn’t even truthfully brief on the situation. “Do you think I’m pleased he’s here?” he shot back, sliding the spatula under his eggs to flip two of them effortlessly onto their yolks. Everyone knew that Quinlan was his partner. Alec knew that James had fought bringing him on this mission to begin with. He didn’t need judgement from Ivelisse right now. 

Nonplussed, Ivelisse held the gaze James was shooting her way steadily. While he may be able to make most people wither under that stare she was made of sterner stuff. “I don’t like relying on civilians,” she countered, firm. She was worried about how well Q would handle himself in front of the terrorist – that was a glaring unknown in this mission; if anything was going to put them in danger it was Q.

James was quick to respond and even quicker to narrow his eyes, “I don’t like pulling my partner into missions, yet here I am.” It was clear he wasn’t in the mood to have this discussion. Lapsing into silence, James returned his focus to breakfast and slid the eggs onto a plate once they were finished, turning his back on Ivelisse to procure a fork. If she didn’t have anything else to say she was welcome to see herself out. 

With a quiet sigh, Ivelisse took the hint and held up her hands, voice gentling as she spoke, “I’m not arguing with you, James. This is just the first time we’ve used an asset like this and I hate sitting back and doing nothing but watching.” 

As he broke his egg yolk and watched the trail of yellow seep across the plate James could only nod. If there was anything he could agree with it was her last statement – nothing was worse than sitting back and watching. Absolutely nothing.


	5. I Did My Best, It Wasn’t Much

While James and Ivelisse exchanged their somewhat terse words, Q was canvassing the grounds of the massive hotel. There was little in the way of security mapping he could do in the limited time before they were scheduled to meet with the seller, so he simply kept an eye out for the obvious and familiarized himself with his surroundings. It was unlikely he would need to know where to go for any reason other than leisure, considering they had the assistance of two agents from MI6, whatever back-up they had on standby, and himself. However, for James’ sake, Q wanted to have at least three escape routes planned in the event something did go wrong.

Keeping a careful eye on the time, Q was reluctant to return after only 45 minutes. The hotel grounds were so large that he’d barely had time to look over half of it with any kind of scrutiny. Barring any screw ups during the meet, though, he knew he would have more time to be comfortable with the layout. 

There was very little in the way of conversation once he returned. James greeted him with a somewhat strained smile, which Q took to mean he was nervous. He returned the smile, doing his best to be silently reassuring as Ivelisse took the lead and gestured for the two men to follow her. The meeting was in one of the nondescript rooms of the hotel tower, several floors up and clearly chosen for its lack of distinguishing features. 

Ivelisse left them at the elevator deck, breaking away as though they were strangers to watch from a distance. James and Q approached the hotel room door and knocked as they has been instructed. A large, muscular bodyguard opened the door and, upon visual inspection, allowed them both into the room. The seller, known as Gaai, was a small, unassuming man who rose as the two men approached, smiling in a way that was meant to be friendly but had a decidedly sly edge. 

“Mr. Kirkland, Mr. Catel, I’m glad to see you’ve made it,” he greeted in Cantonese with the cover names they had provided. Q quickly translated for James, who smiled and nodded in agreement. Gaai gestured for them to sit, and before they’d even gotten comfortable he continued. “I’m curious as to your interest in the material.”

Q raised an eyebrow in response to the man’s overt eagerness. It was clear that this type of meeting was not Gaai’s forte. Without bothering to wait for a response from James, Q responded right away. “Do you often meet with people foolish enough to spell out their organization’s plans?”

Gaai laughed immediately, which earned a puzzled look from James. Q cringed internally; it seemed that acting as a translator was definitely not his specialty either. “Well said,” Gaai cut in once Q had finished translating their last interaction. “Well then, I will allow three minutes to review the material and then would be happy to answer any questions you have.”

It was difficult not to immediately rush into his own line of questioning; the way this transaction was going, it was as though the seller was in a hurry to get rid of the information. Instead, Q continued with translating, quiet as James took the time to look over the sample Gaai had prepared for them to prove the information was legitimate. He, of course, was not authorized to view it himself, so he kept himself busy by working through why the Chinese man across from them would want to be rid of the information so badly.

The most likely reason was the conclusion Q had already come to about Gaai; that he was inexperienced and simply didn’t know how to handle himself. This was especially feasible because the agents had already acknowledged he came from a smaller organization. On the other hand, the reason for his haste could be that the information had been stolen from a rival and he was eager to offload the risk onto someone else. Finally, there was always a chance that Gaai was aware that a government agency was looking into purchasing the information and he was eager to catch them in a lie. Q hoped that was the least likely scenario for James’ sake.

Gaai was completely at ease throughout the three minutes James had to review the information, though; he showed no signs of being overeager or of scrutinizing either of them, so by the time James pushed the laptop back toward its owner, Q was confident that the man had no idea who they were.

Pulled from his thoughts by a soft nudge from James, Q was made aware that the older man was speaking. “It looks legitimate, but where did he get it from?”

Putting his focus back on the interaction, Q leaned forward slightly to catch Gaai’s attention. “He’s happy with the information, but he wants to know where it came from.”

With what could only be described as a cheeky expression, Gaai closed the laptop and tucked it neatly away into the messenger bag it had come from. “Do you often negotiate with men who give away their sources?” he asked, mimicking Q’s earlier words.

Feeling his lips twitch, Q carefully suppressed his amusement. “We want to know if we have anything to be wary of from any other organizations,” he continued, careful in his wording. If his theory about Gaai being anxious to be rid of the information because it was stolen was true, he wanted to know. 

“I only work with legitimate information,” came the smug response. Gaai was clearly a proud man, though whether it was pride due to his apparent closeness with important men or because he had been successful in stealing from a larger organization was still unclear.

It would have been suspicious for Q and James to come from an organization that was willing to trust an outsider, so Q continued speaking, completely forgetting his role as translator. “It can be legitimate as well as stolen,” he stated bluntly, though he was careful to keep his tone from sounding accusatory.

Too late, he felt the weight of James’ stare and realized he had overstepped. The men seemed to speak at the same time, James’ voice urgent and sharp and Gaai’s full of umbrage. 

“Jacques!”

“Do you insult me?”

Pushing away the urge to apologize to James, Q replied to Gaai first, wearing an apologetic smile. “Of course not. But you would not be so successful if you worked with gullible people, would you?” The seller’s expression, though annoyed, had not changed to one of outrage or worry. This by itself was not enough to determine the information was not stolen, but Q took it as a good sign. If it was true that the man was unused to these kinds of negotiations and outwardly proud of the position he was in, it was also likely he’d be weak to flattery, which Q hoped would smooth over his indignation. 

He was proven right almost immediately when Gaai relaxed, clearly mollified. “No, I would not. I see great success through honesty,” he replied, words full of smug confidence once more. 

“What is being said?” James interjected, terse as he spoke though he was careful to keep his posture relaxed. 

Resting a hand on James’ knee beneath the table in apology, Q quickly translated. Once he was finished, the older man met his gaze with a stern expression, speaking to him in a low voice to avoid being overheard. “Do not ad lib, Jacques. Translate, nothing more.” 

With no choice but to continue the transaction, James turned back to Gaai and relaxed as though nothing had happened. “I appreciate your work and your morals. I am only curious as to the country of origin. I like to know specifically who to thank for their gross negligence.” Clearly, James had the same idea in terms of using flattery to smooth things over. 

Q assumed the reason James wanted him to confirm where the information came from was the same as his excuse for going off script and asking if it had been stolen from another organization. MI6 had already expressed interest in tracking down potential terrorist groups through this sale, and if Gaai was selling another organization’s stolen goods that was another threat for them to keep tabs on. However, even if he answered correctly, it still wasn’t definitive proof he was being honest. 

There was a beat of silence before Gaai replied in which Q was worried he’d been set off again. The other man’s eyes were narrowed, as though he was weighing his responses, though it quickly morphed into one of amusement. “Our friends in your homeland, Mr. Kirkland. MI6 is falling apart.” Apparently, he’d decided the answer was harmless. 

With a smirk, James nodded, accepting his answer. “That is something worth celebrating, friend.”

“Indeed.” Gaai was clearly more at ease now, which was a relief for Q. He wouldn’t have been concerned if he was the one running the show, but with the threat of putting James in danger and being discovered by the MI6 agents, he was already berating himself for not being more careful. “Unfortunately, our meeting must end soon. What else can I answer for you gentlemen?”

“How stiff is my competition?” James asked nonchalantly, though it was only a formality. 

Gaai’s expression was haughty enough Q could have read it with his glasses off. “Let me just say I hope you have a very big expense account from your organization.”

James smiled, clearly wrapping things up; Q anticipated a lecture as soon as they were out of earshot. “I look forward to when the bidding opens.” 

“Tomorrow morning. Come with deep pockets; you will need them.” Gaai had clearly recovered from his annoyance earlier; apparently he could be easily bought with flattery and cash. Q forced himself to smile to keep from rolling his eyes.

Ever charming, James laughed and showed no trace of annoyance. “Of course. You clearly put in the hard work.” He stood smoothly from his chair, holding his hand out to Gaai, who had almost gotten to his feet. 

“I’m happy to hear someone appreciates my efforts,” he replied, shaking hands with James and then Q before taking his seat once more, a clear sign for them to be on their way. Rising without preamble, they both took the hint and headed out into the hallway and toward the elevator deck. 

As soon as the elevator doors had closed behind them, James rounded on Q with his eyes hard and his tongue sharp, “Quinlan, do not go rogue again.” His words may have been crystal clear, but it was his ice cold tone that really underscored everything he had to say, “I need to be able to trust you to say only what I tell you. Nothing else.” Though it had wound up ending well, James felt the lecture was deserved – he was already nervous enough dragging Q out here and now to have the young man acting out so foolishly? Unacceptable. 

Voice timorous, Q was the textbook example of nervous energy, “I’m sorry James.” Keeping his eyes downcast, Q was careful to stay bashful and embarrassed – no sense in making things even more awkward, “I’m not a professional translator, I let it get away from me.” Reaching out, Q tangled his fingers in James’s momentarily, “I won’t do that again, I promise.”

The look James leveled at Q was still stern, but the younger man’s words seemed to mollify him. James knew he had to give Q far more leniency than he ever would any other asset – at least the others he handled had some idea of his actual position and the true danger they themselves were in. When Q timidly asked if he had ruined the whole exchange, James sighed softly and shook his head, “No, but you set him on edge. We’re still on track, but don’t push our luck again.”

Upon returning to their villa, James could tell Q was anxious and jittery. He had made plans involving privacy, silk sheets, and dark bedrooms but that hardly seemed appropriate now. “Go for a walk, Q, it will help clear your head.” With a rueful shake of his head, James watched as his partner hightailed it out of the room – it couldn’t be said he didn’t know how Q worked, at the very least.


	6. I've Been Here Before

Having been given permission to slip away, Q decided to take advantage of his relative privacy. Slipping his Bluetooth over his ear, he briefly considered his options. Though the man wasn’t entirely obvious, Q was still aware that he was being followed by Alec – probably for his protection. Even though MI6 had no reason to suspect him of anything, he knew that they would likely listen into his communications to make sure he didn’t let anything slip. It was what he would have done, at any rate.

Quickly deciding on a reason to call, he dialed the number to his cover firm’s office secretary. In reality, Favrielle was Director Philibert’s right hand. That specific line was only used by agents on an op, so he knew it was safe to dial even if Alec was listening.

“Oui?” She answered on the third ring, her tone friendly and inquisitive.

“Hello, Madeline,” Q greeted warmly. Madeline was the name they used to indicate the agent had important information but that the line was either tapped or that they weren’t alone.

Immediately slipping into her role, ‘Madeline’ replied cheerfully, “Hello, Quinlan! How is your vacation? Productive, I hope.”

“It’s very luxurious here,” he began, once again taking in his surroundings to create a mental map of the place as he walked. “You’ll love seeing the photos.” (The seller expects a lot for the information. This could be enough to put the pressure we need on the British.)

Madeline chuckled softly in reply, tone jovial. Q could picture her writing everything down for the Director, listening carefully to his every word to decipher his true meaning. “Perfect. I look forward to it. How lucky you are to have a beau who spoils you that way. We miss you here already, though, so I hope you are truly enjoying yourself.”

Q felt a momentary jolt of guilt at the reminder that he was using James to further France’s goal, but apparently, it was necessary. All the Director could talk about in the week James was gone was how Germany had stopped backing their proposal to the EU and that the UK was threatening to do the same. If that happened, they’d lose it all. There were, of course, agents working to pull Germany back into their ranks, but with the UK still on the fence, France hoped they would be more easily pressured into assisting.

In Q’s mind, whatever information this was, it didn’t pose a danger to James or his country. It was politics like anything else, something that had been done a hundred times before. Sometimes, being half English himself, Q felt both a national pride for being an asset to France and a disloyalty that clung to him like a cloud of smoke. It was a strange duality, often exhausting. It was why he was mostly retired from field work; security technology was not defined by nationality the way being an agent was, and it was clearly something he was better at.

“Luckily for you, it’s not a long holiday. Do you have that cloud account set up? I can send you some photos that way,” Q continued once he’d broken out of his reverie. (Everything is going as planned; I’ll be in and out. Is the remote server set up?)

“Of course I do. Do you consider me a plebian?” ‘Madeline’ asked with playful impatience. Q could easily see why she’d been chosen for this position. She was the perfect chameleon.

“No. But I’ve heard you can be easily distracted. You should make sure your husband sees the photos; he’ll want to visit and you’ll finally get your exotic holiday. Tell me if he likes what he sees; I’d like to know all my photographic work is being used to do some good.”(Make sure the Director sees the information right away. I want to know if it’s what we needed.)

“Wonderful. I knew I loved you for a reason.” ‘Madeline’ continued with a soft sigh. “I can only imagine how lovely it must be.” She was clearly still just playing her role, waiting for him to wrap things up.

Seeing no reason to continue, Q paused in his walk and glanced in the direction of the villa. “I’m going to see if we have time to make use of the pool. I’ll talk to you later.”

Q could hear Favrielle sigh dreamily, and when she spoke again, he knew she was speaking as herself. “Do not make me even more jealous.”

He couldn’t bite back the small sound of amusement that worked its way past his lips – she often said that if she could she would be in the field if only to get to see the world. “Goodbye, Madeline,” he said finally before he hung up.

Not wanting to appear as though he’d only gone out to make a phone call that was not very private on the surface, Q led Alec through the lobby of the hotel. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like making a British Intelligence agent watch him flip through tourist magazines. All that training to be a glorified babysitter to a man who didn’t actually need protecting. Chuckling to himself, Q finally headed back to the villa to enjoy the remainder of his day with James.


	7. Composing Hallelujah

The events of their trip played out quickly from that point on and before James and Q could even really wrap their heads around it they were being escorted into the seller’s suspiciously unguarded and empty hotel room. James knew the details of it all, though of course he kept that quiet from Quinlan – Ivelisse and Alec, exemplary agents that they were, had been here long enough to track every miniscule movement and habit of their target and lay out the plan to gain them uninterrupted access.

Along with the surprisingly adept team that Q-Branch had sent earlier to disable all the complicated electronic surveillance and protection measures Gaai had put in place to guard the room itself, all it took was Ivelisse with a slinky dress and willing smile to accost the terrorist at the bar downstairs and occupy his time by hanging animatedly on his every word and letting her hand wander assumptively. 

Alec had the much more somber role this evening, standing as a sentinel right inside the door as James and Q ventured further into the room and located the computer terminal. James spared a moment – just a moment, he was in the middle of an operation after all – to marvel at the cocksure idiocy of their mark: how obscene it was to think that he could make this room so impregnable that it was safe to leave the hard drive here without any actual human standing watch. But it did make things easier for him and that he was grateful for.

With a slight shrug, James took up a spot behind Q as the younger man slid behind the computer and removed his Walther from the harness he wore hidden under his suit jacket. Lucky that his “employer” had seen fit to put both him and Q though “training” for this operation, it wasn’t out of place for him to have it. Good thing too, as James would have burned with indignant rage at the suggestion that he bring Q into this and be completely inept at protecting him should the need arise. 

Fully immersed in his role as 007 – though he was doing his best to avoid giving that away physically – James was almost confused when he first heard Q’s voice inquire after him, “Are you sure you should be here, James?” But of course Q thought James was just as green as he was so the concern, though misplaced, made sense. 

Not that James had the time or the patience for it right now. “Work, Q,” came the response, an underlying current of worry threading his terse response. Though he felt bad for the look of concern Q shot his way James ignored it – there was a job to be done and he expected it to be done perfectly by all those involved, Q included. The sooner that happened, the sooner they all got out of here. 

As Q began to work through defeating his own polymorphic engine so on and so forth complicated technological concept, James stayed silent and alert, his eyes scanning every nook, cranny, and surface around them and prepared at any moment to take Q down and shelter him with his own body if need be. 

Q was keenly aware of his own Walther in its harness hanging heavy against his chest. It was next to useless considering how long it would take him to get to it should it be necessary. The only thing that brought him any comfort was the agent in the room. He had seen James’ ability with a gun in their training, and while he was good, Q knew it was only because he went hunting on occasion. There was a difference in shooting an animal and another person. He would have to hope that it didn’t come down to that; most men balked when faced with the possibility of taking a life.

Gaai had more than just Q’s own technology securing the information he was after; there were relatively complex firewalls he had to get through before he could even start on what he’d been brought along for. In the moments he wasn’t focused, Q could practically hear the seconds as they ticked past. Every time James shifted, or he heard Alec giving an update to Ivelisse through her wireless ear piece, he was reminded exactly how much was at stake if he made a misstep.

There was more to this than simply disabling the security protocols; Q also had to discreetly send a copy to the remote server the DGSE had set up, though he was confident neither of the other men in the room could decipher the lines of code that would accomplish that task. However, on top of that, he also had to install the virus Alec and Ivelisse had provided from their headquarters and the three of them would then need to leave without any indication they had ever been there. 

Forcing down his own worry for James’ safety was a significant distraction – if it had just been him and Alec, he would at least be focused enough to make time to sneak a peek at the information he was stealing to make sure it was even worth it. For all he knew, it was completely irrelevant to France and not worth the time it would take to forward the file to the remote server. But James was here and he was distracted – Q had to push himself to stay on target and not run through scenarios of all the things that could go wrong.

Cracking his own work was easily the task that took the longest. The lines of code to forward the information to the DGSE were simple to input, but it was at that time Alec informed them that Ivelisse was not going to be able to keep Gaai’s attention much longer. Q still had to install the virus, and he could feel his palms sweating inside the thin gloves he wore to ensure he didn’t smear the glass desk he worked on. 

Though things came down to the wire – Ivelisse had alerted them to the fact that Gaai had gotten up from their table only six minutes before he actually came back to his room – Q managed to finish his work with two of those minutes left. 

Only once they were safely ensconced in their villa again did James dare breathe, though it was almost impossible to fully push 007 away. Post mission adrenaline always hung around and with someone he cared about placed directly in the potential line of fire it was worse than usual. But he did his best, trying to force himself back to Q’s version of normality – of James, the person. To be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure he was successful at it. “I’m glad that’s over,” injecting a thread of nervousness into his tone, James laughed half-heartedly and wrapped his arms around Q’s waist, pressing his face into the younger man’s hair. 

That bout of relaxation was interrupted within moments. “So am I,” came Q’s response, the younger man’s voice showing some sense of… James was almost certain it sounded like trepidation, “I’d have felt better if I knew you were safe. Why didn’t you stay here?” James had always known Q was stubborn and usually found it endearing – this was not one of those times. 

“I brought you into this,” came James’s tired response, arms locking tighter around Q’s waist to hold him in place, “I wasn’t going to let you go through it alone.” Q’s next comment, the remark that being so chivalrous would kill James someday, only served to bring a genuine laugh from James’s throat, “Sounds like a droll way to die.”


	8. A Blaze of Light in Every Word

Everyone involved was too on edge to do much else with their evening; it was after eleven, anyway, so when James suggested they retire for the night, Q didn’t argue. He hoped that the quiet darkness of their room would help calm him, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d forgotten something.

Q ran through every second of the break in that he could remember; he was certain they hadn’t left any physical traces behind, but Gaai had clearly been prepared to pick up on more subtle signs of forced entry. There were the protocols that would send an alert if it was improperly accessed, for example. It seemed fairly obvious that he’d disabled them properly since he hadn’t come running up from the dining room, but that didn’t mean Q hadn’t missed something in the code that would alert him to their presence before the bidding in the morning.

Normally, he would have had more time to go through it all or at least face fewer distractions in the form of his partner being a living liability standing over his shoulder. Q wouldn’t have worried so much if he’d had one of those two things; if it wasn’t for James’ presence, he doubted he would be worried at all. 

After laying in silence for two hours doing nothing but mulling over the minutia of what had really gone off without a hitch, Q realized he wasn’t going to be sleeping any time soon. He rolled over to face James, who had lain still and silent the entire time. Eyes already accustomed to the dark, Q could make out the rise and fall of his chest, and that calmed him somewhat. “…are you awake?” he whispered after a moment.

“Yes,” James replied almost immediately, without any sign he’d been asleep at all.

Q felt foolish for worrying so much; their operation would be over in the morning and there was no sign they hadn’t been successful. “You can’t sleep either?” he asked after a moment of pondering how much of his concern he should display. James had more reasons than he did to be keyed up and by all accounts he was the calm one.

Shifting slightly, James turned onto his other side to face Q and gave him a wan smile. “Still a bit full of adrenaline.”

“And you were just standing there watching me,” Q replied with a scoff, though by his tone it was clear he was teasing.

“I don’t break into hotel rooms every day,” James answered with a laugh, to which Q huffed softly.

“Well, it’s a good thing breaking and entering is a hobby of mine, or we’d both have been hysterical,” he commented dryly.

With another short laugh, James pulled Q against his chest, and the younger man could feel himself relaxing at the security he felt. “I’ve always known you have steel in your bones, Quinlan,” he murmured, lips pressed against his forehead.

A short, fluttery movement meant to be a shrug was Q’s initial response, “Apparently I’m a good actor.” It was almost funny how much of the truth Q was able to tell by masking it as sarcasm.

With a smile and a soft press of his lips, James settled back down against the pillows and closed his eyes. “Go to sleep, Quinlan.”

For a moment, he lay still and tried to do as he was told, but quickly gave up. “I’ve been trying. I can’t sleep.”

Opening his eyes again, James shifted enough for Q to catch the glint in his eyes. “I could tire you out.”

There was a brief moment of silence while Q glanced at the bedroom door and noticed light from the front room bleeding into theirs beneath the gap, confirming his suspicions that at least one of the two agents was awake. “Not with your two closest friends so nearby,” he answered finally.

“Let them hear. It would be nothing more than payback.” Of course James had no shame to speak of.

“Payback? Have you worked with them before?” Q didn’t think to ask before, but he supposed it wasn’t out of the question to think they’d run into each other in the past.

“Twice,” James confirmed with a brief nod.

“For it to be payback, you must have overheard them,” Q replied, speaking slowly, voicing the thought as it came to him. James didn’t reply verbally, merely raised his eyebrow as though he’d spelled it out already. “Very professional,” Q continued with a snort.

Having decided he’d waited long enough for an answer, James pushed himself up onto an elbow and ran his fingers down Q’s side, fingers methodically tracing the curves of his ribs down to the prominent hip bones. “So…?”

Though he’d have to be a fool not to pick up on the innuendo in that one word, Q carried on as though he was oblivious. “They didn’t proposition you, did they?”

If Q wanted to tease, James decided he’d just have to continue on until the younger man couldn’t ignore him. With practiced ease, he slid a knee between Q’s. “I’ve found government agents don’t like to share.”

Before he could take things too far, Q squeezed his legs together to further thwart James’ efforts. “And how have you found that, exactly? Have you propositioned them?” Though he’d been trying to remain serious, Q couldn’t hide his amusement any longer, especially considering the scolding expression on James’ face.

This time, when James leaned in to kiss him, Q did nothing to push him away.


	9. The Holy Dove was Moving Too

Both shrouded in the lethargic pleasure that took hold after a toe-curling orgasm, James lay on his back and traced nonsensical patterns over the soft skin of Q’s back as the younger man broke the tender silence between them to ask a soft question, “Do you know what this reminds me of?” Before James could respond Q continued on, knowing that James was listening, “The business conference we met at in Florence. You must have been very charming that night, to talk me into a rendezvous in the coat room.”

That brought a laugh, a truly amused laugh, to James’s throat, “It wasn’t that hard.” Though, to be fair, he had been very charming that night. He had on his favorite grey suit, the one that really brought light to his eyes, and he’d gotten a full night’s sleep the preceding three days. That, coupled with the soothing warmth of two vodka martinis and at least half a dozen women falling over him had certainly boosted his already substantial self-esteem. Propositioning Q had tickled his fancy as a fun use of his time and he hadn’t been wrong. 

As was his habit when annoyed, both playfully and truthfully, Q switched to speaking French without even truly realizing it, “Vous impliquez que je suis facile.” It was a trait that James enjoyed and often sought to bring out in him. The older man’s answering grin as he responded in the French affirmative was enough proof of that. 

Q huffed then, reminded of his little quirk, and switched back to English just to avoid furthering James’s amusement, “The nerve, to insult me after I complimented your charm.” Chin resting gently on James’s chest, Q found it easy enough to lock eyes with his partner and take a soft pleasure in the warm amusement he found there. 

“You’re not putting the lie to it,” James responded, still cheeky as he palmed Q’s still naked behind. He enjoyed the pert, round curve of Q’s arse, perhaps the only place on the man that carried even an ounce of fat. It certainly made for a lovely sight when James had him face down on his knees, inviting to both look at and touch. 

Biting his lip against the sensation, Q fought himself to remain on topic and not press back eagerly into the touch, “We’ve been together for five years, you can hardly compare the two.”

As his Cheshire Cat grin spread across his face, James teased his hand a little farther down Q’s body. They were both still too spent to actually consider another round right now but it didn’t mean he couldn’t tease, “To be fair you were drunk. You were trickier the second time.”

The combination of James’s wandering hand and mollifying words had a calming effect on Q, though that didn’t mean he was going to let the other man get off scot free, “I wasn’t going to let you think that you could just take what you wanted all the time.” Not that, in the grand scheme of things, that had actually worked but the point still stood. When James’s response came as a ruefully amused smile and the soft brush of his lips against Q’s hair, Q added just one more line for the principle of it all before relaxing fully into his lover’s touch, “I had to reign you in somehow.”

As James huffed softly into Q’s hair and pulled him in tighter, Q laughed softly at one more memory of that night. “I’m glad we chose to leave by separate doors,” he commented, the hand he had draped over James’s chest teasing along his skin with blunt nails, “I still remember hearing that old woman scold you about the sheer impropriety of it all.”

Rolling his eyes at the memory, James playfully shuddered in mock revulsion, “So do I. All too well.” She was a vicious old harpy about it, choosing to lecture a complete stranger about the sanctity of a professional meeting space and the importance of their work there. He had responded as politely as usual, though internally he had been raring to tell her it wasn’t a young lady he had taken to debauching.

As though Q could read his thoughts his next comment hit the nail on the head, “Could you imagine her response if she had seen you leaving with a man?” James’s uproarious laugher at that would have been enough to wake Ivelisse and Alec, had either of them actually been asleep. As it was, Q shared the amusement and smiled fondly, nuzzling a bit deeper into James’s side, “You do love courting trouble.” 

Yet again, Q hit closer to home that he realized. James kept that thought to himself as he moved his hand up, stroking soft, gentle fingertips along Q’s back, “Go to sleep, Quinlan.” As Q hummed in agreement at the idea, James smiled to himself and continued his movements, soothing the younger man to sleep before allowing himself to drift off as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive the google translated French. It's meant to say "Are you implying that I'm easy?".


	10. All I Ever Learned From Love...

That morning, there was a nervous thrum in the air, a sense of anxiety present in the way all four people in the villa carried themselves and interacted while hardly speaking. The bidding was done remotely in a style similar to a silent auction over a 15 minute timespan, and in the hours leading up to the open bids, each agent watched for any sign that the seller had caught onto his tampered merchandise.

However, at the appointed hour, bidding opened with no indication that anything was amiss. Q glanced at James, then turned his attention to Ivelisse. “They must not suspect anything if we’re proceeding, right?” There was no way someone who was supposed to be a civilian wouldn’t be nervous, so he felt it necessary to break the silence.

Speaking for the two agents who were busy keeping several things in motion on top of monitoring the bidding, James cut in. “It seems that way.”

“Waiting is the worst part.” While he tapped his fingers against the side of his mug, Q knew he wasn’t acting anymore. His words were true, echoed by James’ answering nod. As an agent, he hated not having the end results in his own hands, but whatever happened with the bid and the outcome wasn’t his to worry about. Favrielle had already informed him that the information had come through successfully and was being analyzed. His work was finished. 

Fifteen minutes later the bidding stopped, and they were informed that, regretfully, they had not placed the highest bid. Without any hesitation or sense of celebration, Ivelisse turned away, already giving orders to other agents to follow the buyer and seller, her mind completely on the next stage of her operation.

With the eyes of the agents no longer on them and the weight of the mission swiftly lifting from his shoulders, Q felt James’ arms around his waist, pulling the smaller man back against his chest. “Well done, Quinlan,” he murmured, lips against his neck. “I think we should celebrate.” The curve of his smile against Q’s shoulder was easily felt, but before he could roll his eyes and remind James they weren’t alone, he was already speaking again. “I saw the perfect champagne in the bar. I’ll go get us a bottle and we can enjoy a proper holiday.”

When Q responded in the affirmative, James pressed a kiss to Q’s nape and let another smile drift across his own features. They were just as they were supposed to be – successful and safe. Tucking his wallet into a jacket pocket, James caught Q in a deep kiss before heading for the door with a promise to return shortly. 

It was as though MI6 had a militant agent that involved refusing him the opportunity to relax, he had just stepped into the lobby bar when his phone rang and brought him to a stop, frowning softly as he answered, “Moneypenny. I’m on holiday.” 

“I know, James, and I’d love to let you enjoy it. But we have a problem.” As much as it pained her, Eve knew she had to make sure that he was the first to know. She’d been keeping an eye on Q-Branch while they monitored the operation as a favor since she still felt guilty for having shot Bond. Every now and then, she picked up bits of information for him, and they’d grown close because of it. But this was information she took no pleasure in sharing.

Sighing into the phone to show his displeasure, James responded with barely concealed boredom, “Unsurprising.” At least his usual laconic wit came through when he continued to poke at her, “You never call just for fun.” Of course, James knew why – he was taken and she was too stubborn. That didn’t mean that he didn’t enjoy entertaining the idea anyway. 

On a normal phone call, Eve would have had a rejoinder of her own, but given the severity of the information she had it wasn’t appropriate. “The data on the hard drive was copied to a secure server last night at 10:43 pm.” Alongside the professionalism in her tone, there was an equal measure of regret. She knew that James would immediately pick up on the fact that they were still in Gaai’s room while Quinlan was decrypting the information. “Q-Branch has traced the server to the DGSE.”

Any and all thought James had – where was he headed next, how did he explain it to Q, could he potentially pawn it off on Alec – vanished the moment he heard the time leave Eve’s lips. Immediately the one and only possible reason for that came to surface and he went still as stone, memories of Vesper trying to fight their way past his defenses, “They must be wrong.”

There was so much Eve could decipher from that tone and so much she wanted to say, but now wasn’t the time. She doubted there would ever be time; she and Bond were friendly but she wouldn’t go so far as to say he trusted her with anything in his personal life. “We wouldn’t alert you if we weren’t certain.” Her voice lost most of its professionalism and edged into gentleness. She didn’t need to know about Vesper to know this was hard to hear.

In contrast to Eve’s softening tone, James’s only grew harder and more aggressive. “They must be wrong,” forcing the second word between clenched teeth, James made it clear that he was unwilling – or unable – to accept what Eve was telling him. This couldn’t be happening to him, not again. He had finally created a nice personal life for himself and yet here he was, on the brink of having it torn down around him.

Of course James Bond was not the type of man who wanted anything to do with any kind of sympathy. Reigning herself in, Eve said the only thing she could. “I’m sorry.” There was nothing else she could say in response to this. It didn’t matter that the French were their allies, the personal betrayal was still there and nothing she could say could make it any easier to bear.

Like a switch was flipped, James snapped into agent mode. When his mind was working he could quiet the ghosts, if only for a few minutes, and right now he couldn’t handle Vesper breathing down his neck. There was an enemy agent within range – a threat – and that was what needed his focus now. Sharp and demanding, James started barking questions at Eve that sounded much more like orders, “Who else knows?”

When Bond made that shift it was easy for Eve to follow, the softness leeched from her voice by the gravity of the situation. “Our Q-Branch techs and the two of us.” She knew him well enough to guess what his intentions were, but before she could ask anything further, Bond cut in again.

“Keep it away from M, Moneypenny,” his voice came through the line like ice, an implicit warning clear in it, “from anyone else.” If Q had been working him, using him as some chump, he was going to be the one to handle it. That meant keeping Alec and Ivelisse out of the loop and that meant keeping M in the dark. James knew damn well the miserable old man would call the other double-ohs on him the moment he found out, blame it on James’s history. 

Sparing her computer monitor a quick once-over, Eve frowned. She could see the pair of Q-Branch techs sliding papers into folders, the senior of the two reading over the brief they’d typed up. It was too late already. “I can’t. They’re finalizing the report to M now.” She knew, though, as everyone did, that anything that found its way to M’s desk landed on hers first. “The most I can do is buy some time,” she amended. “What are you going to do?”

If there was one thing James didn’t have time for it was Eve’s questions. “Then buy me time,” was the last thing he uttered before the line went sharp with silence, the lack of static indicating that he had hung up. Turning abruptly on his heel, James headed back toward the villa with barely controlled rage in his eyes and his finger itching for the trigger of his gun.


	11. ...Was How to Shoot at Someone Who Outdrew You

In James’ absence, Q took his time to enjoy the villa. Alec and Ivelisse had gone to a new room already, having never fully unpacked in the first place. He supposed they would continue to monitor Gaai and whoever he worked for, though to what end he didn’t care. His job was done and he was looking forward to some much-needed alone time with his beau.

As Q took his time enjoying the villa, James had fully transitioned into his role as 007 and was approaching the door to their shared quarters with gun drawn and mind methodically thinking through the encounter. Quinlan was clearly well trained, to have been able to pull the wool over his eyes for so long. There was no reason to think that the other man knew of his suspicions, but it was better safe than sorry. Unsure of what room Quinlan may be occupying, James entered the villa with gun up, sweeping the room silently before moving to the next one.

His urge to fully enjoy the amenities of their lodging brought Q out to the veranda. The water was still enough to be like glass, and as he leaned against the iron gate separating their villa from the next, he entertained himself by watching the calm water and the reflections of birds flying by overhead. 

There was a sudden movement that caught his eye, and in the reflection of the sliding glass doors a figure materialized behind him. From the way the man carried himself, Q could tell it wasn’t anyone friendly. Q decided to play ignorant, keeping his back to the door and his posture relaxed, letting whoever the person was think he was clueless. Squeezing the gun in his hand, he waited until the figure stepped onto the veranda before whipping around and aiming for the heart, only to nearly drop the gun entirely. “…James?”

If James had any lingering doubt – any at all – it was dispelled the moment that Quinlan pulled a gun on him in return. Nobody moved that swiftly, that confidently in the face of something like this, unless they were trained for it. “Drop the gun, Verreuil,” the order came quiet but the force behind the words was clear nonetheless, “Now.” 

As soon as he saw James, Q almost laughed at how paranoid he must seem. He was returning with the champagne and must have been moving the way he was in an attempt to surprise him. A laugh had almost bubbled in his throat before he realized the other man was holding a gun, too. His expression was hard enough it may as well have been chiseled from stone, and in that moment Q knew his cover was gone. It was instinct, nothing more, that kept his grip on his gun. “...James, I can explain.”

The silence grew taut between them as James refused to join the conversation. There was no explanation that he cared to hear, nothing Q could say that would fix this nightmare of a situation. Without warning he barreled forward, gun still pointed unwaveringly at Q’s chest, and made a grab to relieve the other man of his weapon. While part of his mind was screaming at him to just shoot he didn’t pull the trigger – not yet, anyway. Though he didn’t want to talk there was some small part of him that wanted to hear what Q may have to say anyway.

Hand to hand combat had never been his strength; Q’s smaller frame wasn’t well suited to it. What he did excel at was reading people. There was a split second where James’ weight shifted, but it was enough to telegraph his intentions. He turned to the side and jabbed his left palm into the older man’s shoulder to propel him away, trying to use his own momentum against him. By the time James was able to face him again, Q already had his gun trained at his chest. “I’m not your enemy. Please.”

“You work for the DGSE,” the words came out growled, feral in their rage. That was all James needed to know, more than enough to make Q his enemy. Somehow he’d found himself another Vesper. How could he have been so damn thick, to let this happen again? How had he missed this? There was grief fluttering at the edges of his consciousness but James did his best to ignore it, as usual, and kept his focus on the threat of Q’s handgun. He hadn’t shot yet, which James took as a sign that he wasn’t going to. So he moved forward again, steps purposeful and determined, eyes glinting like ice.

“And you work for MI6,” Q replied pointedly, having deduced that much. He wanted to comb through their life together, pick apart the threads that would lead to this outcome, to his lover having been an agent the entire time. There was hardly time for that while he was staring down the barrel of an enemy weapon. All he could do was hope his words would break the barrier between them. “We don’t have to do this, James. We could both put our guns down and go inside. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, just not like this.”

If there was one thing James was not going to do, it was put down his gun. Q trying to placate him only further served to prove that the French agent had no intention of actually shooting him and that made James bolder. The moment he was within arm’s reach his free hand flew out, grabbing Q’s hair hard and yanking back to pull him off balance. In tandem he jammed his gun up under Q’s own and shoved it away, burying the muzzle of his in between two of Q’s ribs. 

This close, able to smell the man he loved, to see the warm depths of his eyes, to feel the soft, silken strands of hair that James had spent countless hours trailing his fingers through, it hurt. It hurt more than he wanted it to, more than he was willing to admit, but it burned through him like fire. The words, when he spoke again, were almost broken. But he was James Bond and he refused to let them sound it fully, “You betrayed me.”

He had seen it coming; James was good but Q could read every move before he made it. It was shock, he supposed, that kept his body from responding to the signals his brain should have been sending that would have prevented him from being trapped. But with the barrel of a gun digging painfully between his ribs, there was no longer a way out. For several heartbeats, Q’s only reply was the sound of his Walther clattering to the ground, but he managed to find his voice eventually. “…I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” the incredulous question came out as a bark of laughter, James shocked and showing it oddly. Anything that Q could have said and he went with an apology? For some reason, James hadn’t been expecting that. But it didn’t matter, did it? Whether or not Q was sorry had no bearing on their current situation. Keeping his gun buried painfully between Q’s ribs, James locked eyes with the younger man and just waited, needing something more from him in this moment.

It didn’t take very much time to weigh his options; he had James’ attention now, and even if it wasn’t how he wanted it, Q had little choice but to tell him the truth. “The only reason I did this was because my government needed to put pressure on the UK to ensure their support for a measure they intend to propose to the EU. It’s harmless politics; I wouldn’t have done something that would put you in danger. I didn’t think it would affect you at all.”

That reveal – the why – made James laugh again, though this time it veered close to coming off as unhinged. “Do you even have any bloody idea what you stole?” he inquired then, marveling that his life is falling apart around him all because France wanted to steal information it already had access to. How fucking ridiculous. 

“…no. They’ve been grasping at straws.” It was no use wishing he’d have pressed harder to keep James out of Gaai’s room while he worked. Though it would have averted this crisis, there was nothing he could do about it now. Judging by the way James asked, Q could guess that it wasn’t anything that could have helped France’s situation. If it’d been just him and Alec in the room, he wouldn’t have been so anxious, he would have risked a peek at the information, would have noticed the code that alerted MI6 when he made the copy, wouldn’t have sent it in the first place if it was useless. If only…

At that James couldn’t help but laugh again. This time, it did sound unhinged. “It was the damn list of NATO operatives,” the list he’d lost M for, the list that had almost wiped him from the face of the earth, the list that brought him face to face with the fact that he was fallible – not just personally, but professionally too. And yet again, years later, here it was to ruin him again. What was the harm in telling Q what he’d stolen? He was going to kill him soon.

Q would have laughed at the pointlessness of it all had they been in any other situation. As it was, all he wanted to do was salvage anything he could of his relationship. “This is the first and only time I’ve ever used your information for an operation,” he offered, knowing that James must be wondering how deep the betrayal ran. Part of his own mind wondered if James had passed on any of his own secrets to his government, but now was not the time to ask that question.

“Right,” the response was flat and disinterested. With an appraising eye to their surroundings, James jammed his gun just a little harder into Q’s ribs and started shoving him backwards, “Inside. Now.” The gunshot was going to be heard regardless of where they were but at the very least James could muffle the sound through the walls of the villa. 

The distinctive way James eyed the veranda gave away what he was thinking, and Q’s heart sank. He wasn’t afraid to die; he couldn’t be an agent and have that fear, but he couldn’t accept it at the hands of the man he loved. Although he could have tried to stand his ground, he was physically no match for James and part of him hoped that complying would give his words more weight. Once they were inside, he switched tactics from being logical to appealing to James’ emotions. “I love you. That was never a lie.”

That brought a scoff forth from James’s throat, the sound rough and disbelieving, “You think I haven’t said that to a mark before?” Lying came easier than breathing to James and he had no reason to believe that Q was any different. Was it possible for the French to have known James’s true profession, planted Q from the very beginning? The rational part of his brain told James no but it wasn’t enough to placate him, not right now. But still, safely ensconced in the shelter of the villa, James didn’t pull the trigger. 

“As far as I know, you haven’t lived with a mark for five years and shared every detail of your life.” The longer this went on, the harder it was for Q not to struggle. There would undoubtedly be a bruise on his side where the gun was jammed into his ribcage, and James’ fingers twisted in his hair was pain sharp enough to make his eyes prick with tears. He did his best to remain still, though. “Besides which, I would have needed to know you were with MI6. Do you really think I had any idea about that?”

Though he’d made the determination that Q wasn’t going to shoot him early on, it was only now that James’s conscious was finally admitting that he wasn’t going to shoot Q, either. How could he? Bloody useless fucking fool, wasn’t he? He’d tried to save Vesper even after finding out about her betrayal and now here he was, on his umpteenth opportunity to pull the trigger and yet still not taking it. With a deep breath, James took one last look at Q before shoving him away, hard enough to knock him onto the ground, “Call your damn handler. Get a plane ticket. Now.” Alec and Ivelisse were going to find out about all of this any moment now and James would be damned if either one of them were going to kill Q in his stead.

With a soft yelp of surprise when he was released, Q looked up at James from the floor and found he was able to breathe properly again. Of course he knew that the other agents would be filled in about his true identity, that it was necessary that he contact the DGSE to arrange for a way back to France, but that also meant this was likely the last time he was going to see James. Finding little use in arguing, Q simply nodded and called Favrielle.

As he waited for Q to make the call James kept busy, his hands methodical and clinical as he patted Q down for any hidden weapons that could be turned against him. He found a knife at Q’s ankle and took it, throwing it across the room. As the French agent made contact with the DGSE James kept his gun trained on him anyway, as the cold metal between them helped dampen some of his emotion.

The call to Favrielle didn’t last long; it didn’t need to. There was always a contingency in place to cover this situation, so she was well prepared. Though he did have to admit to being outed by an agent, Q was careful not to reveal James’ status as an MI6 operative. He doubted it would do much of anything, but still, he held onto the hope that James would be able to forgive him. “There’s a flight leaving in 30 minutes,” he confirmed he’d hung up the phone.

“Good,” came the response, sharp and to the point. Without moving his gun even a centimeter, James continued to give orders, “Get up. Get your shoes on, get your passport.” He didn’t intend to allow Q the time to gather his other personal belongings – partially out of spite, but mainly because Alec and Ivelisse could come bearing down on them at any moment. If Q had any hope of actually making it to the airport alive they needed to leave now.


	12. Love is Not a Victory March

There wasn’t enough time to be sentimental about his belongings; there wasn’t time for anything. If he wanted to fix things with James, he needed to be alive to do so. If he gave off the appearance of being easily shepherded as he followed the other man’s orders, it was only because Q didn’t know how else to make use of the very limited time they had. He moved carefully, deliberately, doing what he could to display he wasn’t a threat – though it would be nice to have some sort of weapon in case the other agents caught on.

James stayed silent, his gun representing everything he needed to get across. It was amazing how quickly a beautiful morning had turned into a hideous afternoon. Though, that was the pattern of his life. Why be surprised when it happened again? The buzzing of his mobile broke the tense silence, though he ignored the sound and accompanying chime of a voicemail left. Whoever it was, whatever they needed, now was not the time. 

There was little point in trying to delay; as soon as Q had gathered up the essentials, he turned and headed to the door. The walk to the car would give him a few minutes to say his piece, but it was like willing an epiphany. He and James didn’t fight often, but when they did the man was stubborn and refused to see any reason until he had calmed down. There was no one right thing to say, even though they’d both been lying to each other about the same thing. “You can’t really think the past five years have been a lie, James,” Q said softly as he let James lead him to the car. Though the gun was out of sight he had no illusion that it wasn’t still pointed at him. He had to hope that being in public would prevent another outburst.

All Q got in return was a sharp look and stony silence. James had no interest in engaging in actual conversation about this – his mind was made up and he had no intention of speaking to Q again. He could make it to the airport in silence and see him through the gate without a single word and that suited him just fine. Besides, talking drew attention and the less they did of that, the better. 

Q supposed he could try to plead but that would likely just make him look even more fake. He wasn’t much for grand shows of emotion, no matter what the emotion was. Even his rage was nearly silent. It was time to accept that they would be separated for a while. But Q knew where James lived, knew his habits, knew he could get in touch with him again even if the man burned their flat to the ground. “I’m not that great an actor, to fake everything we’ve been through,” he persisted anyway; even if it wouldn’t be a conversation, there was still a point to be made.

Again the only response came as stone cold silence. The phone call, though he hadn’t answered it, had set the fine hair at James’s nape on end – he knew it had either been Moneypenny or one of the agents travelling with them. Either way it meant Alec and Ivelisse knew, he could feel it in his bones. It was work enough to split his attention between casing their surroundings and keeping Q in line, he didn’t have the patience or the urge to even try to listen to whatever Q was spewing at this point.

At this point, Q couldn’t help but feel more like a prisoner being lead to his cell than anything. It was almost impressive, how different James looked wearing such a harsh expression. Q was relieved he was walking in front so he didn’t have to look directly into those cold blue eyes. The parking garage wasn’t far away – and relatively empty since most patrons used the valet service. Their heavy footsteps echoed around them as they entered and a rustling of fabric told Q that James had pulled his gun again now that they were mostly alone.

“Get in the car,” James ordered, the quiet click of the doors unlocking echoing almost ominously through the cavernous space. Both Alec and Ivelisse knew the sporty little coupe he had rented for the trip and James wasn’t a fan of this plan but in all honestly it was the only escape route they had. Leaving Q unguarded in the passenger seat next to him was another calculated risk he had to take but he couldn’t handle the stick shift and keep a gun on Q at the same time. At least he’d canvassed him for weapons earlier. 

As he moved to obey, a third set of footsteps echoed and immediately Q felt ill at ease. “Being armed would be helpful right about now,” he said pointedly as he slid into the passenger’s seat and locked the door. It should have been clear enough he meant James no harm and their luck was bound to run out sooner or later. Life wasn’t kind enough to grant them a safe exit, a notion which proved itself to be true a moment later when Ivelisse seemingly materialized from their left to stand in front of the car, gun pointed at Q through the glass.

Having slid into the car at the same moment as Q, James moved quick and immediately, his own gun pointed directly at Ivelisse’s chest. “Get out of my way,” with his door still open it was easy enough for her to hear him and the tone of his voice made it clear he had no intention of being argued with. As quietly as he could, James lifted his knee to jingle the key he had stuck into the ignition, hoping Q would take the hint and start the car.

Without wasting time, Q leaned over and twisted the key in the ignition. He didn’t bother to sit back up, either, letting the dash obscure Ivelisse’s shot. “Don’t do this, Bond. M wants Alec and I to clean up this mess; you’re too involved to think clearly.” She sounded tense, Q thought, figuring she must know James had no intention of simply handing him over. If anything, that gave him hope.

James’s response, when it came, was quietly spoken. But the underlying venom and hatred it contained could not be missed, “I handled Vesper, I will handle this.” James didn’t want to hurt Ivelisse. He had known her for many years and respected her work. But he would be dead before he let her or Alec handle what was so clearly his matter. He’d come to Macau to clean up after a botched mission. Maybe he was also here to clean up after another botched relationship. 

“If you were going to handle it, we wouldn’t be here. We have something in place to keep this from being a scandal with France. Get out of the car and let me finish the job.” Q didn’t like all the talk of handling ‘this’, nor did he like the steel in Ivelisse’s voice. He murmured James’ name, looking up with urgency from where he was crouched in the front seat. The longer they sat here, the more dangerous it became. Facing one agent was difficult enough, two would be deadly.

Respect her or not, James valued Q’s life above Ivelisse’s at this point, even if he was still pointedly ignoring the younger man. Banking on Ivelisse’s reluctance to shoot him as well, James took a breath and in one fluid motion dropped his hand, depressed the clutch and break, and shifted the car into gear. Ivelisse was close enough that hitting her would happen in seconds and as James smoothly shifted the car into motion he knew she had two options – fire and get hit, or get out of the way. 

The screech of his open door as it scraped along the car next to it was ear splitting but also served as another distraction. Without waiting to see what option she chose, James grabbed the door and slammed it shut as they got clear of the surrounding vehicles, immediately picking up speed and heading for the exit. 

Some part of Ivelisse must have anticipated this was the most likely outcome, judging by the way she rolled to the side, planted her knee on the concrete and fired off three shots that blew out the back glass. Staying hunched in the seat, Q reached for James’ gun. “Give me the gun. You should focus on driving. I’ll keep them off us.”

As he took the turn onto the exit ramp just a little too sharply and blew through the flimsy plastic divider James barked out an order, clearly expecting it to be obeyed, “Stay down!” He was not going to give Q his gun – currently saving his life or not, James still wasn’t stupid enough to arm the enemy. What he could – and would – do is drive like hell. Getting out of the parking garage was something of a relief but he knew they weren’t out of danger yet. 

“James, they’re going to follow us. This will be easier if I can defend myself!” Q found it a little difficult to be wholly convincing while he was crouched awkwardly in the passenger’s seat, but it was undeniable that the driver’s aim was always off in these situations.

Stubborn as always, James continued to disregard the concerns of his passenger, especially as a much bigger concern of his own soon made his presence known. They hadn’t made it a block before James heard another gunshot, accompanied by the sound of the bullet embedding itself into their vehicle. Of course Alec would find a way to be here, would chose this place to position himself – the bastard knew James too well. His only concern was to get away – shooting back would do no good and only put Q into more danger. 

The metallic clang of a bullet striking the car made Q flinch, curling his body up even further. The rental wasn’t nearly as protective a vehicle as he would have chosen for an operation; it was just supposed to be for sight-seeing, not a car chase. Crouched over as he was, he had an excellent view of James’ expert driving as he veered to the left then back to the right to throw off Alec’s aim. A loud pop followed as the older man shifted into fourth gear and Q felt his body shift to the right. Though they had gotten a good distance away, Alec had managed to blow one of the rear tires. They wouldn’t get near far enough like this.


	13. You Say I Took the Name in Vain

Ever the consummate professional, James kept his focus and his cool even as he felt one of the tires go soft. After all, he’d kept calm when he’d felt a bullet pierce his thigh only a few moments before. Damn Alec to hell – James knew that was why it had taken him so long to actually shoot out the tire – he’d been purposefully aiming for James’s door to begin with. 

But that wasn’t the point right now. He was handling the pain. All they had to do was get far enough away to change vehicles out of Alec’s sight. All they had to do was get a moment. Taking the next corner hard, James pushed the car as far as it would go, weaving amongst the traffic until he found a suitable target. Pulling up behind a limousine sporting an exceedingly tacky commercial logo across the back, James fished his wallet from his pocket and pulled all the cash from it, thrusting it at Q, “Give it to him, tell him it’s his if he lets us in and drives away like nothing is amiss.”

Though he’d heard people yelling at the sound of gunfire back at the hotel, they’d gotten far enough away that nothing seemed amiss. The car got them out of sight and bought them some time, especially since Alec and Ivelisse would have to get their own car to follow properly. Q spotted the limousine almost at the same time as James, having tentatively poked his head up once he could be relatively certain it was safe to do so. The cash was in his hand before he could utter a word and he didn’t spare any time delaying. 

He practically sprinted to the limousine and knocked on the door. Fortunately, it was empty and sitting at a curb, clearly waiting for customers. Q smiled at the driver when he rolled down the window, flashing the cash casually. “Sorry to bother you, but we’ve got a flat tire. Would you mind giving my friend and I a ride instead of whoever it is you’re waiting for?” The driver licked his lips, eyes roving from the cash to Q and back again. He apologized after a moment, assuring Q that if he called the number another driver would arrive quickly. Keeping a calm smile on his face, he reached for his own wallet, digging out his own cash. “Of course, I could do that, but it would be a shame to see all this money go to waste…”

The driver was clearly playing him for all the cash he had, but Q wasn’t of a mind to haggle. He waved James over as soon as the man had agreed, sliding into the back with a nervous glance behind them. The airport was certainly out of the question with Ivelisse and Alec so close behind; of course, that’s where they would head first. He had Favrielle on the line before James had joined him in the back seat.

James had sent Q on ahead only because he knew he would be somewhat slower when it came to moving with some pep in his step. On top of that, he didn’t want the blood soaking his pant leg to spook the driver before they had gained his commitment. But injured or not James made it into the backseat without struggle, voice sharp and commanding as he spoke, “Go. Now!”

While Q had spoken Cantonese to the driver, the man seemed to understand James’ English well enough as he pulled away from the curb. He shot the older man a grateful look for dealing with the driver as he explained to Favrielle they needed a different way out. As neon signs blurred past, Q found himself wishing he could enjoy the scenery, imagining what he and James would be doing right now if this whole thing had never happened. He could almost taste the wine they would share, hear the lyrical electronics and chatter of the casino, feel the cards in his hands, and for the first time he was angry with James rather than just himself. This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t been in that room. 

Distractions aside, he and Favrielle worked out a new escape route. He gave the driver the name of a hotel on the other side of the city where helicopters regularly landed. They’d be air-lifted out to the Chinese mainland where they would catch another flight. That said, he hung up the phone and turned to look at James with the intention of telling him off, but the expression he wore stopped him. It was much the same as the cold mask Q had still not been used to seeing in the last several minutes, but there was pain etched into the lines of his face. “Are you all right?” 

The look James shot him at that could have curdled milk. Though he was clearly doing his best not to draw attention to it, he couldn’t help the dark stain that marred his pant leg, especially not as it continued to seep further and further into the fabric. Yet shot or not, James was fine. Displeased that Alec and Ivelisse had so thoroughly complicated this for him, but fine none the less. 

“Stop with that look, James. Maybe I caused this mess by starting this operation intending to forward your information to my boss, but you certainly complicated it by not telling me the truth. If you were who you said you were, you wouldn’t have been in that room and this wouldn’t be happening. I’ll accept responsibility for my actions, but don’t act like you’re blameless.” In truth, he hadn’t meant to let his anger reach the surface, at least not yet. But nothing else was getting through to him and they were running out of options.

“Stop,” James ordered, just has he had commanded the driver. It was clear he intended to be obeyed and wasn’t swayed by Q’s improperly timed outburst. It was almost hard to believe that Q was a professional agent right now – what in the world was he thinking, spouting off like that where the driver could clearly hear them. There was no guarantee he couldn’t understand English. It was reckless and opened them up to further danger. 

Q was aware the driver could understand at least some of what he was saying, but he had purposefully chosen ambiguous phrases and kept his voice low enough to be obscured by the distance from the back seat to the driver. The longer this went on, the more he felt like he was losing control. He wasn’t incompetent, but it seemed every move he made proved that he was, which only spurred his anger further. “I am not for you to command, James,” he hissed, shifting in his seat until the two of them were face to face. 

Like this, he could better read the older man’s expression, and in the sea of anger and incredulity, the pain still surfaced like waves. What started out as a flicker of hope that it was emotional pain quickly extinguished itself as Q’s eyes were drawn to the dark stain still spreading on the thigh of James’ right pant leg. “Jesus, your leg,” he breathed, anger forgotten as he immediately pulled off his jacket and balled it up beneath James’ hand where he’d been holding pressure.

Q’s help in this was the one thing James actually accepted from the younger man. Handling this situation was going to be tricky, especially now that he’d committed treason to save someone that didn’t deserve it. Though his future was up in the air right now James still had every intention of getting through it and that meant surviving the immediate danger. Pressing the cloth to his leg harder, James clenched his teeth against a groan of pain – it hurt, but it was staunching the blood flow better than his bare hand had. 

Even with no real experience of what James was like as an agent, Q was certain that he was competent. Nonetheless, he held pressure too, his hands over James’ quickly growing sticky with the blood that already coated them. All the more reason to be grateful he’d paid the driver up front. They arrived at the hotel shortly after and Q carefully maneuvered James out of the car as best he could while hiding his injury from the driver; the less he knew, the better. Likely hoping to catch his original appointment, the man sped off before the door was even fully closed.


	14. You Don't Really Care for Music

As soon as James made it out of the car he shook Q away like a gnat, eyes sharp as he took in their surroundings. “Out in front, now,” he growled, clearly unperturbed by Q’s insistence that he wasn’t James’s to order around. Mentally running through the list of things he needed to know, James prodded Q forward, toward the entrance to the hotel as he spoke, “When are you people going to be here?”

Although he’d been compliant before, Q stood his ground this time, though it was lacking the same stubbornness he’d displayed in the limousine. “Half an hour,” he replied distractedly, eyes roving the exterior of the building before setting off to the side. “We can’t go in through the front with you looking like that. Not to mention that’s the first place Alec and Ivelisse will go when they’ve worked out where we are. There’s a freight entrance around the back that’s mostly unused during the day.”

James would have asked how he knew, but regardless of the distaste his people might have for them the French actually were competent; he was sure Q had gotten everything he needed to know from his handler. “Around back, then,” he prodded, trying his hardest to avoid actually limping. The fact that he wasn’t dead yet meant that Alec hadn’t hit an artery and that, at least, James could be grateful for.

“A little redundant, don’t you think?” Q replied in his usual dry manner, having already been heading for the freight entrance. It was inevitable that they’d be noticed by the hotel patrons, but Q paid them no mind and walked with purpose. That was usually the easiest way to get into places he wasn’t supposed to be without anyone asking questions, though he had yet to test that theory while being trailed by an obviously injured man holding a suit jacket against his bleeding leg wound.

James had figured out his way through worse. He walked with confidence, paid no heed to the blood staining his clothing, and kept an aloof air about himself that was given greater credence by the look of distaste on his features. By the time they made it to the rear entrance his leg was throbbing and he was beginning to feel the effects of too much blood loss making him woozy.

It took only a few minutes for Q to pop the cover off the key card scanner at the rear entrance and rewire it to allow them entry without setting off an alarm. He trusted the DGSE to handle the security cameras and didn’t bother wasting time worrying about them. “Freight elevator,” he said, gesturing to the metal doors across the hall. “It won’t take us to the roof. We’ll need to take a few flights of stairs…” trailing off, Q looked at the way James held himself with his weight off his right leg. The plan was perfect as they made it until he realized the other man was injured after the fact.

James did not appreciate the pathetic look that Q was currently giving him – he’d handled worse, a few sets of stairs wouldn’t stop him. “Go,” he responded roughly, starting to make his own way toward the elevator, brushing past Q as he did. 

“Pardon my concern,” Q quipped under his breath as he turned to follow James to the doors. Jamming his thumb against the button, Q looked around them for any sign that they were being watched. The earlier concern that Alec had been monitoring his phone calls had been with him since they left. If he was close enough to pick up his conversation with Favrielle, he would know exactly where to go. It was a small relief when the doors pinged open without any sign of the agent, but with plenty of time before the helicopter arrived they were hardly out of the woods.

Waiting for the doors to shut behind him, James allowed himself a moment of respite, leaning back against the wall of the elevator and lifting all the weight from his injured leg. He knew better than to try and act tough when he could spare himself and regain even a bit of stamina. The irony that he was now relying on the French – the same damn people who had gotten him into the mess – to get him to safety was not lost on him. In fact, it only served to make him even grumpier. 

The freight elevator was slow as it pulled them up the dozens on floors to the top, but at least the ride was smooth and silent. The last thing either of them needed right now was a rickety machine. Gradually, the elevator slowed to a halt, the doors sliding open to reveal a large storage room. Grateful there was no one around to ask questions, Q led James to the only door, checking to make sure no one unfriendly was waiting for them in the hallway before stepping out. “There’s only one way onto the roof. The stairwell is down this hall and to the left, then two flights up.”

James nodded once to show his understanding and then pointedly waited for Q to lead the way before following. He still had his gun on him and though it wasn’t currently pointed at Q it was most definitely within easy reach. His own senses were as sharp as they could be considering the circumstances – he knew for a fact that Alec had Q’s phone tapped and that there was a definite risk they would be found here. 

They reached the stairwell in decent time, but Q could hear the way James was shuffling to keep his weight off his injured leg as much as possible. Deciding it was worth the wrath, he hooked James’ right arm over his shoulder. “I don’t want to hear it,” he cut in before he could be shoved away or scolded. “They could find us here so you need to conserve your stamina. Even if it means relying on a traitor.”

The way James’s hand curled into a fist made it quite clear he didn’t appreciate being manhandled into his situation. Not to mention that with their current arrangement if he needed his gun he’d be dead before he could reach it. But the relief of Q as a crutch washed through him immediately and it did speed up their escape. So James suffered through it, for now.

Hobbling up the stairs was not quick, nor was it quiet. The only thing that gave Q any comfort was the fact that even if Alec and Ivelisse did know where they were, there was no way they’d gotten to the hotel before them. Any danger would come from behind. As it was, they had only encountered two couples as they made their way from the storage room to the stairwell, and that kind of luck was almost unheard of. Q couldn’t help but wonder when that might run out.


	15. And Even Though It All Went Wrong

They reached the top of the stairs without running into anyone. Though it was an option, it seemed entering by helicopter was not entirely common, so there was little reason for anyone to access these particular stairs. Leading James to the exit door, Q did a quick visual sweep of the roof and, seeing no one, gestured for the other man to sit. “We have some time before the helicopter arrives. Let me see if there’s anything I can do for your leg.”

“How much time?” he growled out, angling himself away from Q in a way that clearly telegraphed his help wasn’t welcome. Now that he was still for a moment he could tend to it himself and did so to the best of his ability, tearing strips from the least bloody part of Q’s jacket and bandaging the wound. The bullet needed to come out but this was neither the time nor place for it – the best he could do was stop the bleeding.

“Ten minutes, still,” Q sighed, giving James some space as he watched him work. He’d clearly suffered similar injuries in the field, judging by the efficiency with which he bandaged the wound. It occurred to Q, then, that there were more lies between the two of them than he could imagine. He’d swallowed every story that had been fed to him with simple-minded ease; the old bullet wound in his shoulder that supposedly came from a hunting accident in his youth, knife wounds inflicted while protecting a girlfriend from a jealous ex. It was hard not to wonder if he’d been willfully ignorant the entire time, just to get to be with the man he had fallen for. 

“…I don’t really know you, do I?” he asked with melancholy softness. Of course, it occurred to Q that the same could be said about him, but his cover was more in line with what he actually did. And it was impossible for him to recognize his well-mannered, gentle James in this agent standing across from him. Even in the midst of their fights, even when they’d been on the verge of leaving each other, James had never looked at him so coldly. Perhaps this was his first taste of who he really was, not just who he pretended to be.

The look James shot Q was just as heated as those previously, but at least this time he responded with actual words as well. He wasn’t particularly in the mood to talk but Q’s nagging had worn on him. Besides, though his gun clearly spoke volumes it didn’t say everything, “Don’t act like a child.” As far as James was concerned Q was being overly dramatic – he was the one who had started all this, after all.

Q answered with a withering glare of his own. “Children have temper tantrums,” his pointed words made it clear exactly who he thought was being the child between the two of them. “Adults face their problems,” he finished icily, clearly abandoning his earlier methods of quiet compliance in place of his own indignation. 

“So I should have shot you, then?” James rejoined, the pain flaring through him making him even more short tempered. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation. Somewhere along the way he had made the unconscious decision that he was going to spare Q. Betrayed or not, he couldn’t actually bring himself to kill the man he loved. Not a surprise, really, considering he’d half drown himself trying to save Vesper. It was becoming a sorry trend for him. What he would do – what he planned on doing – was getting Q out alive and then erasing the very thought of him from existence. 

Let him waste away in France. Of course, he hadn’t fully thought through what this would do to his own career, had thought he could slip away without a confrontation with Alec and Ivelisse. Could just say that Q escaped before his arrival, must have been tipped off somehow. But it was too late for all of that. At this point in time James was stubbornly avoiding thoughts of his own future. 

“Facing it would be talking to me. Listening to me. How can you think this doesn’t affect me too?” Q’s jaw was clenched and he spoke softly, though that was clearly an effort. As much as he wanted James to talk to him, they’d also need to listen for both the helicopter and any indication they were followed.

“We have nothing to discuss,” came the response, just a low in tone but clearly threaded with emotion. Yes, James was an agent. James had been lying about his profession as well. Fine. They were on equal footing there. What he had never done was use Q to further his own goals at the expense of the other man. What he hadn’t done was betray him. 

“You dragged me into an operation that’s much more dangerous than you made it out to be. I know who’s after these files; this isn’t just something that got hacked from a government contractor. You think that’s not using me?” Q hissed, beyond the point of accepting James’ curt words and angry silence. “And do you really expect me to believe that if you were in my position, you wouldn’t pass along any information you could to help your country, no matter what the source?”

“I don’t work on what ifs, Quinlan,” James snarled through clenched teeth, his left hand still curled in a fist as his right rested over the butt of his gun. “You were protected by three agents, your involvement was minimal, and you made it through unharmed,” though he hadn’t intended to get into this conversation it seemed that Q had managed to drag it out of him anyway, “you’re the one who used me and you did it without remorse.”

“You wouldn’t know how I felt about it, would you?” Of course, Q knew that he played the bigger role here, but he felt betrayed anyway. “I told you the only reason I did this at all was because it shouldn’t have affected you.” He remembered the guilt he felt while setting things up with the Director, but mostly he used it as a reason to help James in the first place. The DGSE had their reasons for keeping him close and it was unlikely they’d have allowed him to take a leave with such short notice unless there was something in it for them. “I should have known something was wrong when you were even allowed in that room with me.” Again, it was hard to imagine Q hadn’t blinded himself this whole time. There were so many pieces James left to point to the truth, and he’d never seen it.

“It did,” with that, James turned his attention away from Q, focusing instead on the door back to the stairwell. He had a growing sense of something sinister, something wrong moving their way and it led him to pull his gun. There was no sound yet, Alec wasn’t that close, but he knew in his core that both he and Ivelisse were on their way. Of course he and Q were both positioned as best they could be, backs against the same wall as the door, but even still he knew they were exposed and vulnerable. 

“Only because you were lying to me, too!” Without much thought, Q grabbed the front of James’ shirt and forced the other man to face him. “I know that I am responsible for this, but I am not the traitor you are making me out to be.”

It was with controlled, clinical movements that James reached up and forcibly removed Q’s hands from his clothing. Doing his best to ignore the fact that Q’s skin was warm against his palm, that being this close to him brought a flutter of desperate hope to his chest, James narrowed his eyes and shoved Q away from him, “I’m not doing this again.”

Though James had been rough with him before, his grip wasn’t as firm this time. Maybe it was just the blood loss, but the thought that maybe he was finally wearing down on James’ anger fueled Q. “Doing what again?” At first, Q assumed he’d meant arguing, but that didn’t make sense. It occurred to him that during his conversation with Ivelisse he’d mentioned something unfamiliar and he began putting the pieces in place. “…do you mean Vesper?” 

Using that name struck him at the time, but they’d both been so focused on escaping the hotel that it slipped his mind. Their conversation seemed to insinuate that James had been through this before and his reactions lined up if that was the case.

The look that came over James’s face contained nothing but pure, impotent rage. It was near to terrifying, the way his eyes lit with fire and his body responded automatically, gun lifting to point dead center at Q’s chest again, “Shut your mouth.” James was breathing hard but he held his ground – it was clear Q had just probed at a freshly reopened wound.

Unafraid of the weapon Q continued, clearly having found the source of all this. He could understand anger at his betrayal, but the level of rage that James had displayed had caught him off guard. If there had been something in his history, though, something close enough to this scenario to warrant an over-reaction, that explained everything. “Who is Vesper?”

The second worst day of his life was fighting tooth and nail to become the first. At this point in time James couldn’t decide which was harder – watching Vesper die or being confronted with her history like this, finding her again in the only other person he’d trusted himself to love. It wasn’t any of Q’s business and he wanted to tell him as much but the words got stuck. Eyes like cold steel, James held to his silence and his gun, hoping to find some kind of savior in the two of them.

Perhaps it wasn’t just anger that was spurring James on like this; sorrow could often look the same in some men. “James. Who is Vesper?” This time, Q was careful to keep his tone even and measured, softer than before. He didn’t want to sound pitying but something had to get the truth out. James looked like a caged animal, wild and cornered. Q kept his distance to keep from driving him too close to the edge.

What did it matter, who she was? It didn’t change what Q did, didn’t change what had happened between them. But something was clawing at James’s chest, desperately ripping at him, trying to get out. When he spoke it came unbidden and he hated himself for giving Q any information at all, “She’s dead.”

“I didn’t ask if she was dead or alive. Tell me who she is.” Though he was more insistent this time, Q still kept his voice level. They didn’t have much time before the helicopter arrived and he knew James would never open up to him with an audience. He felt like they were on the brink of something, if only he could bring down the last of the barrier between them.

“You don’t need to know,” James responded, though the words came out brittle. The hot flash of rage had dimmed some and though he was still angry, holding onto that emotion in the face of Q’s gentle tone was harder than it should have been. He didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to have some ridiculous heart to heart, have Q try to tell him that this time it was different. 

There wasn’t anything else Q could say to convince James to speak. His will was hanging by a thread and if there could be any hope of coming out on the other side of this with James still by his side they had to get to the root of it. Still maintaining the distance between them, Q leaned forward just enough to catch the other man’s gaze and just watched him quietly, expectantly.

James felt a tremble start in his injured leg and he cursed himself silently, forcibly willing his body into submission. “You’re getting on that helicopter and going back to France and that’s it, Quinlan, that is all you need to know,” it was an almost futile last ditch effort – to change the topic, to deter Q’s line of questioning, to make the other man angry again, to do anything other than continue on with Q looking at him like that, like he still fucking cared about him.

Desperation was not a good look for James, who was always so in control of himself. But Q picked up on it and knew he was close. Maybe it was a cruel move to bring up something that was clearly so painful but whoever Vesper was Q had to prove to James that he was different. He reached out again, but this time he gently laid his hand on top of James’. He could feel his heartbeat fluttering against the fingertips at his wrist. “Please.”

When he broke, it came just like everything else: spectacularly. It reared up in anger as James yanked himself away from Q again but the truth found its way out in his words, “What do you want, Quinlan?” His voice rose to a crescendo, far louder than he should be speaking considering the circumstances, but dammit there was only one way for his fellow agents to get into this room and they were both going to know where he had positioned himself whether or not they could hear him.

“You want to hear that I loved her? Fine, I loved her,” it was amazing, how out of control sharing this information made him feel. How it felt like grasping at straws, trying to stop, “I trusted her. She sold me down the river right in front of my eyes. I watched her drown, watched her pull away from me as I tried to save her damn life.” Suddenly, a thought hit him – that was one difference, wasn’t it? Vesper had actively hastened her own demise but Q was letting himself be helped. It wasn’t enough of a difference to matter though. Nothing could be. His last words came hissed through clenched teeth, “That’s who she was.”

That wasn’t the whole story, couldn’t be, but it was enough to confirm Q’s suspicions. “I’m sorry, James.” He could insist he wasn’t Vesper, he wouldn’t do what she did, but the fact was he didn’t know her story. Just that she had betrayed James somehow and died for it. “I know I took advantage of this operation and that I wouldn’t have been on it if it wasn’t for you. But I meant what I said; I never would have done it if I thought it would hurt you or come between us.”

It was amazing how saying something out loud could unlock so many hidden truths. At some point, Q had gotten so attached that his first loyalty was to James, not his country. That may sound impossible, given his use of the other man, but he’d done it in order to help him in the first place. However this ended, whatever the cost, Q did not want to lose him.

“I don’t want your sympathy,” James spat. There were a million other things he could say but before he could find his next words a single, solitary metallic clang echoed through the air around them. ‘Sloppy work, Alec,’ James thought silently as he grabbed Q and hastily shoved him father away from the door and into the protective darkness, his own gun coming up to the ready. 

Though he was usually touched by James’ protectiveness, right now it was a hindrance. Though he hadn’t drawn it Q knew his gun was in the usually unused shoulder holster the other man wore and he had no intention of facing two well-trained agents empty handed. “James,” he said softly, doing his best not to be overheard. “My gun.”

This time there was no argument. Quick and deft, James pulled Q’s gun from where he’d kept it and handed it to the man behind him. Though he had no intention of letting Q take point it was better to be prepared. He and Alec, especially, knew each other inside and out. It wasn’t going to be a simple fight, not at all.


	16. Maybe There's a God Above

As soon as his fingers curled around the grip of his gun, Q felt much more prepared for what they were about to face. In the quiet moments they had left, Q spared a glance at his watch and frowned. It had been 32 minutes since the helicopter had been assigned to pick them up and he didn’t so much as hear it. He still had his Bluetooth connected from the call he made to Favrielle in the car, so he quickly redialed her. 

It didn’t matter at this point if he was overheard – they were already cornered so when she answered all he did was lower his voice. “The helicopter is late and we’re not alone,” he said as soon as she picked up. The last thing either of them needed right now was to miss their escape by so narrow a margin.

“It’s five minutes out. You need to neutralize the threat and get on the helicopter immediately. The pilot will not wait for you, Quinlan. Do whatever it takes.”

At this point James was concerned about one thing and one thing only – surviving the two double-oh agents currently out for their blood. The idea of killing either of them set an ache deep in his chest but it was that or let them kill Q and, well… Q dying would be worse. When he’d placed Q above Alec in importance he didn’t know, but here they were. Steadying himself as he heard someone touch the other side of the door handle, James took a breath held his aim steady.

Q saw a shadow pass under the door before he heard the handle shift. Fortunately for them, the door swung outward, so whoever was on the other side would have to position themselves carefully to prevent from being vulnerable in the few seconds it would take to open the door. Normally, Q would proceed with caution himself, but with the helicopter so close and apparently no time for error, he let instinct take over. 

Stepping in front of James, Q moved from behind the door and kicked it outward with as much force as he could muster and sent it into Ivelisse’s chest. It wouldn’t be enough to disable her for long, but his gun was already positioned and he fired a shot at her chest before ducking out of range. It was risky and he’d hear and earful from James later he was sure, but they didn’t have time to be cautious. Favrielle was still in his ear, demanding to know what had just happened, but Q was too focused on whether or not Ivelisse was incapacitated and where Alec was to reply.

‘The worst asset was a self-confident asset.’ That old bit of wisdom had floated around MI6 forever and here Q was, proving it true yet again. It was the self-confidence that got them injured or killed and Q was basically begging for it. Cursing aloud, James threw himself forward and fired blindly into the hallway, doing his best to lay down suppressive fire with a handgun. Trouble with that was it wasn’t very effective. But he needed to get back to Q and that meant getting across the now open doorway.

There wasn’t nearly as much room on this side of the door, but it was still better than being in the hallway trying to get in. It had happened too quickly for Q to be certain where his bullet hit, but he heard it hit her vest so she would at least be winded. A slower agent was an easier target.

From there on out James’s mind went clear and blank – he operated on instinct to the nth degree, body moving in concert with his weapon and acting as a shield for Q in tandem. When Alec’s shadow loomed large in the doorway James acted without hesitation, though even still aiming to kill his best friend made him soul sick. It wasn’t something he felt right now and the distant part of his brain that told him he’d feel it later was beaten out by the screaming internal instinct to survive.

In the moments of silence before they would face Alec, Q heard the distinct sound of helicopter blades whirring ever closer to them. With a quick glance between their current position and the door that lead outside, he knew there was no way they could run out without being caught in the crossfire, especially not with James being slowed by his injury. 

“The helicopter should be landing in under two minutes,” Favrielle warned, to which Q’s only response was to frown. The click of the door handle caught his attention and he braced himself as the door was pulled open again. The bulk of James’ body blocked his view and he wasn’t about to put himself in the line of fire again.

It all happened so quickly, but how else could it they have expected things to play out between three of England’s finest? As the door was pulled open James heard the gunshot almost in tandem – it must have come from Ivelisse; judging from the impact it made in the ceiling and the angle of the shot James could ascertain she was still on her back on the ground. But damn them both if it wasn’t enough of a distraction to give Alec the time he needed. 

006 moved like water, flowing around the door and dropping into a low, protective roll as he actually entered the room. There was another gunshot – this one of Alec’s, now, and it was followed by a grunt of pain. Whether or not it was his own James wasn’t entirely certain. But his same automatic response to danger was in control now and he squeezed off two rounds of his own in quick succession, aiming to kill with both of them.

At such close quarters, it was difficult to avoid the shots as they were fired. Alec had been prepared, though, and spun to the side to avoid taking a fatal hit. The second bullet clipped his left side but with the adrenaline of facing an enemy at close quarters it didn’t slow him down. Using his earlier momentum, he swung be butt of the gun down in an arc, aiming for the side of James’ head. It was clear his intent was to capture his fellow agent alive, if possible; it was Q he wanted to kill. 

“Listen to me, Quinlan,” Favrielle’s voice was tinny and far away, though it could just be that his ears were ringing with the echo of gunfire. The grunt of pain James had heard had belonged to Q, Alec’s bullet finding its way into his shoulder. “The helicopter is landing now. We’re doing what we can to keep him there, but the pilot doesn’t want to be involved in this. You need to get out there.” James and Alec were still blocking his path to the door, and Q wasn’t about to leave on his own.

Ducking Alec’s precisely aimed blow James threw himself forward and collided with Alec, his shoulder connecting solidly with the other man’s sternum. Using his momentum to his advantage, James took Alec down hard, winding him as he landed back first on the hard concrete. That was the moment of time, the second’s hesitation from Alec that he needed – grabbing at the other agent’s hand James managed to wrest Alec’s gun from him and send it clattering into the corner behind them.

Taking this opportunity, Q scrambled after the gun, picking it up so Alec wouldn’t have access to it once they made their escape. “James, we have to go, the pilot isn’t going to wait.” The urgency in his voice overrode the pain; if Ivelisse was only winded, she’d be on them in a matter of moments. They needed to get out while they had the chance. 

He knew that Alec wouldn’t just let James go but Q was hesitant to kill the other man. They hadn’t made much of a connection in the few hours they’d interacted, but he wanted to leave Alec alive for James’ sake if he could. “What are you doing, Quinlan? They’ve landed! Leave James and go!” Favrielle was authoritative, though he could hear an undercurrent of agitation in her tone. The negotiation with the pilot must not be going well. 

As James and Alec struggled, it became increasingly clear that James was of the same mind as Q and was searching for the best way to incapacitate the other man so he could get away and keep him alive. He’d only be getting in the way if he tried to help at this point, so he stood out of the line of fire in case Ivelisse got back up. “I’m not leaving James,” Q asserted.

“That’s an order, Verreuil! They want him alive, they’ll execute you the moment they get the chance. Get on the helicopter now!” Favrielle’s voice was clipped. Though he hadn’t doubted her, it was clear they were truly running out of time.

With something akin to a roar of effort, James reared back only to smash his forehead against Alec’s, a last-ditch effort to take him out of the game without permanent injury. It made his own skull burst with pain but at least he’d been prepared for it – Alec hadn’t been. As the other agent finally slumped down and quit struggling, James took a deep, ragged gasp for air and tried to push himself upright. 

But of course Alec had gone for the easy target, having jammed his hand into the bullet wound on James’s leg, further exacerbating his pain and once again causing blood to flow somewhat freely. He felt woozy as one of his hands slipped out from under him and he sunk back to the floor, vainly scrabbling for purchase.

Q had been watching them carefully, waiting for an opportunity to step in and help. Though it was only a moment, the seconds Alec had been dazed gave James enough leverage to start to push himself up and Q was there immediately. He ducked down and tucked himself under the older man’s arm, helping to pull him up even as the pressure against his own wound made him grit his teeth at the pain. 

Hearing James cry out, he immediately brought his heel down against Alec’s bicep, crushing his arm hard enough that he let go out of instinct. It was enough for them to break free, both men trudging through the second door that led to the roof. 

The fight had clearly reopened James’ wound, blood starting to pool at his feet with each step they took. Favrielle was relentless in his ear, ordering him to leave James behind and run – indeed, the pilot met his eyes with an impatient sneer, gesturing that he was about to take off without them. They had only taken a few steps when Q heard a bullet whiz by, the metal casing pinging off the concrete where it fell.

Ivelisse.

They were sitting ducks, too slow to run or properly react to the other agent’s gunfire. Freedom was mere yards away, but the only way he could make it was if he left the man he loved behind; the man who risked his own life for him, even though he’d been betrayed. On the other hand, if he did die, all James’ sacrifices would be in vain – not to mention he’d be defying his own country. He knew the other agents would take James back alive if they got their hands on him and if Q survived there was a chance France would help him recover the older man before he could be tried for treason 

It was all within the span of a heartbeat, a single breath, but feeling the weight of James’ body against his, pushing on in spite of the danger, he knew his choice had already been made. Without any more thought, Q pulled himself from beneath James’ arm, twisting his body to avoid Ivelisse’s next shot and ran toward the helicopter.


	17. Every Breath We Drew Was Hallelujah

** 7 Months Later **

It was with his usual sly half smile that James laid out his cards on the table and watched collective disappointment ripple through the others playing his table. As his last hand for the night James allowed a little bit of his satisfaction to show through as the dealer pushed a rather copious number of chips over to him. The tables had been very kind to him tonight.

“Remind me again why I agreed to play poker with you.” Felix’s expression of dismay was more pointed than the others, having felt he should know better than to make any kind of bet against James Bond in the first place.

Collecting his chips and turning to cash out, James laughed quietly, “Because you make poor choices, Felix.” Once he added up tonight’s winnings he knew he’d have a solid month’s income on his hands and it left him feeling light. 

Draining his newly-refilled glass of scotch, Felix scowled momentarily before following the other man out. “Now that you’re finished working for the night, I hope you have time for some private conversation?” There was a hint of playful sarcasm in his tone as he waited patiently for James to finish collecting his winnings.

At that James only nodded, carefully tucking away his earnings before gesturing toward the elevator. “After you,” his words were pointed and he followed close on Felix’s heels as they made their way up to the suite James was currently occupying. He didn’t often like to mix work and home but he did have a fondness for this casino and resort in particular. 

Felix led the way up with no hesitation; his own room was on the same floor so he was familiar with the route. He stepped aside once they arrived to let James unlock the door then followed him inside. They’d made all their small talk in the casino, so the trip upstairs had been quiet. That all changed once the door closed.

“James, Felix. Welcome back.” Q greeted the other men with a warm smile from behind the screen of his laptop. 

“Good to see you again, Q.” Felix greeted before making himself comfortable in the chair across from the younger man. “You boys are slippery, you know that? With the bounty MI6 and the DGSE are offering for the two of you, I’d say I could win my money back and then some.” 

Though he knew Felix wasn’t thinking of turning them in, Q’s answering smile was somewhat strained. “Yes, well. I was never one overly focused on popularity. I wouldn’t complain if things were to die down.”

Used to Felix’s sense of play James only smiled briefly and commented, “Lucky for us you and MI6 don’t often see eye to eye.” James took a seat near Felix, though he took the time to pour himself a glass of scotch beforehand. He didn’t take for granted how lucky they were to still be free men and took every opportunity he had to ensure that he enjoyed the perks while he could.

Upon seeing James’ drink, Felix raised an eyebrow. “First you scalp me and then you can’t even offer me a drink?” he asked with the ghost of a smile on his features. James raised his glass to Felix and took a drink in reply.

“I believe you had important news for us, Felix,” Q cut in, covering up his impatience with a polite smile. 

“I do. MI6 has asked the CIA to keep an eye out for you two. Seems like your former boss isn’t too sure how much of a threat you two intend to be.” His amused expression hadn’t changed, knowing that all James and Q wanted was to live quietly together, in peace. Or, at least to live an existence that didn’t interfere with their former employers; it was impossible for James to be quiet for too long. Felix had lent them quite a bit of aid to that end.

Probing deeper, James took another sip from his glass and then asked, “And how does the CIA feel about keeping an eye out for us?” He wasn’t that worried about the Americans, they tended only to truly concern themselves with affairs of their own – a rogue agent or two from Europe wasn’t going to be that high on their list of worries.

Felix shrugged, unconcerned. “They’re not going to go out of their way lookin’ for you. If they bother to remember what you two look like, they might tip off MI6 or the DGSE if they see you.” Leaning back in his chair, Felix’s expression changed to something more serious. “I did happen to hear that MI6 wants to start island-hopping in the Caribbean. Seems like your friends back home know something about your preferred lifestyle, James.” This was clearly the more important information; he had helped them set down roots in Nassau and wasn’t pleased that they may have to uproot themselves after finally getting comfortable. 

Displeased but not entirely surprised, James frowned slightly and contemplated that bit of information. He liked it here, the casinos were comfortable and the money came easy. Q wasn’t in love with the weather but James thought it actually did the young man some good, to get out in warm air and bright skies. He wanted to stay, “What else do you know?” 

“They’re starting with the islands with British and French influence, focusing on casino towns. They’ve got you pegged, my friend. Sounds like they’re not going to devote too much manpower, though. Most likely they’ll contact casino staff with your pictures and ask if they’ve seen you, run facial recognition on the security cam footage. Mostly busy work they can do remote.” The serious expression bled from Felix’s face to something more hopeful. “If anyone can dodge that kind of snooping, it’s you two.”

Q huffed softly, turning back to his laptop. “What do they think I am, incompetent? The most highly skilled technological agent in Europe and they think I wouldn’t overwrite the security footage? Either they’ve forgotten who I am or they really don’t want to catch us.” Even though it was good news, it was clear Q had taken their tactics as an insult to his intelligence. 

A soft laugh escaped James at that – Q with ruffled feathers was always an amusing sight, at least to him. But Q’s technological prowess notwithstanding, they did still need to be careful. At this point he knew if MI6 got their hands on him he’d be black bagged and bludgeoned without preamble and if he had his druthers he’d rather not go out that way. “Do you think we need to move, Felix?” he asked then, practical as always. “You are the one with your ear to the ground.”

“I think that depends on the risks you want to take. There’s always the chance they’ll talk to someone who recognizes you two, then they’ll definitely get some men on the ground. But the Bahamas have plenty of islands for you to hide out on, and by the looks of it they’re not going to spend time searching them all. You can last a good two weeks on those emergency supplies we stashed if you need to.” Felix knew James was happy in Nassau and after all the work he’d done to help get them situated he wasn’t keen to repeat the experience.

“However, if you’d rather not risk it, I’ve got some contacts I can reach out to. But you should decide soon; I go back home tomorrow and it’d be easier to set up while I’m still here.” Though he gave no outward indication of it, Felix knew that James was carefully weighing both his options.

At that James nodded, rising to pour Felix a glass of scotch. As he handed the amber liquid off he felt a heavy sigh well up, though he kept it to himself. It wasn’t a simple decision to make even though they had to make it with alacrity. Resuming his seat, James took a breath and another drink of his own before responding, “Thank you. We will discuss it tonight and I’ll reach out.”

“Thanks,” Felix murmured as he took the glass, downing half of it before looking back and forth between the two men. “Do you want some privacy to talk things over?”

“When you’re done,” James responded softly. He didn’t have any urge to kick Felix out, not after all the work the man had put in for them. It paid off to take care of his American friend all those years ago and he didn’t intend to change his behavior now. 

Smiling, Felix drained his glass and set it down on the table, pushing himself to his feet. He knew James and Q didn’t have long to sort things out and wanted to give them the privacy they needed to do so. “Thanks for the drink. I’ll see myself out.” 

11:15 that evening found Q leaning against the balcony railing and looking down at the grounds of the Atlantis hotel and out over the ocean. An empty glass of scotch dangled from his fingers as he considered the moon-lit water and palm trees several stories below. He and James had discussed the pros and cons of each option they had and as he stood staring out into the night, Q wondered if the decision he’d come to in his mind was selfish.

Interrupting his musing, he felt James’ arms around his waist as the older man leaned against his back and took in the view. It had taken James months to resume comfortable, casual physical intimacy and Q was very careful not to take even a moment of it for granted. 

“It’s up to you, Quinlan,” after discussing said options, the weight of protecting them should they stay in Nassau fell onto the younger man. He was the one who had to carefully erase all technological trace of them and that wasn’t a simple task in an area as heavily monitored as the ones they frequented. James had no hidden motive, wasn’t expecting Q to make the decision for James’s sake – he just wanted to make sure they were both happy and free. 

Breathing out uneasily, Q carefully set his glass down on the small outdoor table to his right before turning around to face James. “I’m tired of running. And, even if I can’t go outside between the hours of 11 and 5 without looking like a pomegranate, I do like it here.” He was exaggerating, of course, but it helped ease the tension of the moment. After the uncertainty of their first few months on the run, Q was still relieved to see James smile, which he always did during any mention of his ill handling of the heat. “I’ll make sure they can’t find us.”

It was silent for a moment before James answered, the ex-agent carefully studying Q’s face for any sign this wasn’t actually what he wanted. What he saw was nervousness, perhaps some anxiety, but no regret. The first two emotions he could understand and deal with. “Then here we stay,” it was simple, in the end. He trusted Q with more than just his life, at this point. Here they were and here they would remain.

Though he was not ignoring the risk of exposure they faced, Q felt himself smile. He’d been going through the security footage every day already, carefully removing any sign of either of them. They were both friendly with the staff and felt that they would keep their mouths shut if asked any questions. 

This was not the life he imagined but somehow being on the run was more freeing than what he’d been doing before. There were no more secrets between himself and James, nor would there be. He was happy, and he would fight to remain so if it came to that. Looping his arms around James’ neck, he pressed their lips together briefly before pulling back just long enough to echo his sentiment. “Here we stay.”


End file.
